


red thread of fate

by fernnette



Series: red thread of fate: a series of sexy events [1]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Awkward/Shy Buck, BDSM, Confident Eddie Diaz, Firefighter!Eddie, Kid Fic, Love at First Sight, M/M, SWAT!buck, because i am not educated in that, but like probably inaccurate, but thats my business, so unrealistic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28264248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fernnette/pseuds/fernnette
Summary: “An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break.”
Relationships: Evan “Buck” Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Series: red thread of fate: a series of sexy events [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2070576
Comments: 37
Kudos: 169





	1. something in the water

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick note to say that this fic is the most unrealistic, schmoopy, love-at-first-sight romance that could ever be written. It is pure romance, low-angst from the beginning, so if thats not something you’re into...I’m sorry.
> 
> I’m still writing this, but right now I’m at almost 25k, so buckle in babies because it’s going to be a long one.
> 
> This will also be a series at some point. 
> 
> A big thank you to donut247hey for being a beta, a motivator, a friend, an idea generator, etc. this fic probably wouldn’t have happened without her, so thank you. I started this after a really bad case of writers block when I wasn’t making progress with find you or my original work. This story practically BEGGED to be told, so here I am. 
> 
> Future warning for BDSM elements. I’ll tag as it comes, but just warning for the next chapter.
> 
> Please come talk to me on tumblr. I’m a wishy-washy bitch, but I’m on occasionally. LOL.  
> http://fernnette.tumblr.com/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from water — ryland james

ONE

Just one morning Evan Buckley wants to wake up to the smell of coffee brewing and bacon sizzling, maybe even some freshly cut fruit waiting for him on the counter.

Just one morning Evan Buckley wants to sleep in, take his time to roll around and stretch his limbs—preferably in the nude. One morning to read a book for thirty minutes, or play that mindlessly repetitive candy game on his phone. One morning to lazily jack off without the fear of a certain rambunctious four-year-old bursting through his door mid-stroke only to pounce on him WWE wrestle mania style.

Just one morning of peace and tranquillity. A morning spent without waking up with the nagging, anxious feeling that he forgot to transfer the laundry last night even though he triple checked before bed. A morning without grumpy, independent daughters who insist on dressing themselves, and when you let them, they come downstairs in a fluffy pink skirt, a teal t-shirt, and purple converse. It’s always a goddamn mess, but he lets it go—something about picking his battles?—letting her wear her obnoxiously colorful, mismatched outfit if she wants.

Because Buck loves his little girl.

Anyways, the point is that Buck just wants one morning to himself, to be lazy and do whatever the fuck he wants. He loves Max with his whole heart; hell, he couldn’t imagine doing life without her. There was a time when he thought Max was going to be the worst thing for him. Turns out, he was wrong. So wrong.

That doesn’t mean he can’t want quiet mornings and warm coffee.

Maddie has been great to have around again, and she helps as much as she can, making up for all the time she had lost since she left Hershey. But Maddie has an established life here. She has a boyfriend Buck has yet to meet (“ _Howie is great, Buck, but you should get settled. It’s only been a few weeks. Don’t want you to get overwhelmed and leave. We have time._ ”) and friends he has only seen glimpses of. Maddie has rearranged her schedule and uprooted her usual routine to accommodate Buck and Max. There is only so much he can ask his sister to do when she’s already going above and beyond what should be asked of her.

Not that Maddie really cares. She offers her services to Buck as much as possible. Max needs a ride to dance practice? She’s breaking every speeding law to be there right at four-thirty. She’s out of peanut butter for her sandwiches for lunch? Maddie is out the front door before Buck can even throw the empty jar away. Max needs a shower or help picking out her school clothes? Maddie is throwing on a pair of designer glasses and pulling her hair into a ponytail like she’s the devil in Prada.

It’s a comfort Buck’s never known since he’s had Max, and it only proves the benefits of moving to LA. He has been terrified of the change, but life has never been so agreeable and chaotically peaceful.

Max comes skidding to a halt in the kitchen doorway with a ponytail holder in one hand and a brush in the other. She’s out of breath with only half of the blonde, wavy hair on her head brushed and sporting a red mark on the apple of her cheek.

“What happened here?” He gestures with the tip of his peanut butter covered knife at her cheek. “You look like you got in a fight.”

Max purses her lips and scrunches her nose, “Did I win?”

“Uh…no.”

“Hmph,” she huffs, “My hair doesn’t like it when I brush it. Only Daddy.” She finishes with a sweet smile that has Buck narrowing his eyes.

He chuckles at her antics then snatches the brush from her. Buck’s never been great at the whole hair thing, but he somehow managed to master a high ponytail. He has been working on braiding, but he just can’t seem to get it. Either his fingers are too fat and clumsy, or Max’s hair is just too short and fine to braid properly—he’s going with the latter since he can not in good conscience attack his own skills like that.

Once her hair is in her usual ponytail, he goes back to preparing her lunchbox—complete with one pb&j, pretzels, carrots, and apple slices. Believe it or not, she insists on the carrots. Something about good eyesight? Buck isn’t sure. All he cares about is her willingness to eat veggies, which is at an all-time high thanks to some documentary she watched a year ago, so Buck’s capitalizing on it. (Thanks to her old babysitter Margret. All the blessings to you.)

“Got your bag?”

Max pats her back awkwardly, “Check.”

“Lunchbox?”

“Check! Check!”

Buck sends her a calculated stare, teasing and suspicious, “What about those teeth? The last thing I need is your teacher calling me about your bad breath.”

Max’s eyes widen, “Nuh-uh. Miss Andrews wouldn’t…”

“You want to test that theory?”

With that, Max takes off for the bathroom in a hurry, feet stomping around like a herd of elephants as she goes, mesmerized by her swinging hair behind her. Buck shakes his head before patting his hands softly around his pockets to make sure he has his keys, wallet, and phone. He’s finishing up tying his shoes when Max comes back toward the entryway with a big, teeth-baring smile to show off her freshly brushed teeth.

“Weirdo.” Buck curls a finger through her hair then opens the door, “Let’s go! Move it, or lose it, Maxie.”

On the way to school, Max is content to chat animatedly in the backseat, not waiting or pausing long enough for Buck to get a word in edgewise. Like the past few mornings, she’s rambling about a little boy in her class who told her that the fire alarm calls his daddy (“ _Daddy, the fire alarm calls his daddy! But he said he’s only supposed to call in err-gencies. I want to call him._ ”). Buck never thought he’d have to explain the importance of only pulling a fire alarm if there was a real fire, but alas, this morning is the morning he has to do just that with his four-year-old.

This is also the same little boy that tripped her on her first day of school with one of his crutches apparently. He thought she’d been upset about it at the time, but it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship actually. Probably because she tripped over the kid’s crutch and landed on the beanbag which in turn sent her classmate that was reading there flying off the bag and onto the floor.

Hilarious.

Buck parks in the lot, envious of all the parents who are able to just roll up to the front door and drop their kids off without suffering through the ordeal of walking inside, signing in, and prying their kid’s surprisingly strong little hands from their legs, so they can leave for the day. Preschool is hard. Max is young enough that the thrill of being in a new place with other little kids is exciting and intriguing, but still cautious enough that she thinks Buck is never coming back if he leaves her there. That might also have something to do with the fact that her mother promised her she’d be back, and that was two years ago.

Max doesn’t do well with separation. Her pediatrician assured him that it was normal in his parenting situation for the child to feel a strong sense of abandonment—which fucking duh, she was abandoned—and separation anxiety from the existing caregiver. When Buck heard what the doctor had to say, he almost walked out. There were no solid answers. He wasn’t given a solution to the problem, and there is nothing worse than watching your child hurt from something they shouldn’t have to deal with in the first place. It is painful in a way Buck has never experienced.

“Come on, Daddy! Christopher is here!” Max exclaims, breaking Buck’s saddening thoughts, as she tugs on his hand while pointing to a little boy and his dad walking slowly up the slope to the front entrance.

Buck slides Max’s backpack over her shoulders then grabs her hand again. “Okay, okay. All set. Lead the way, Captain.”

Max scrunches her nose, her brow twitching in confusion when she levels Buck with a look, “My name is Max?”

“Right.” Buck chuckles. “How could I forget?”

As they near the building, Max becomes more erratic, tugging harder and harder on Buck’s hand until she is practically dragging him along. She is grunting and huffing, frustrated that Buck isn’t helping her by moving faster. When they start on the slope, she hollers out loudly to her friend, who is a couple of steps from the doors.

Buck grimaces as she yells and waves frantically, “Christopher! Christopher!”

Christopher slowly turns around, a smile lighting up his face as Max comes into view. His dad is grinning softly at the two of them, clearly as soft as Buck is feeling over the friendship they have seemed to develop.

“Max…” Christopher leans toward his dad, “This is…Max, my friend.”

Max steps into his space, leaning forward conspiratorially to whisper, “My daddy said we can’t call your daddy later. He said I’d be in trouble.”

“Only in emergencies, Chris. You know that.”

Buck stifles a grin as he catches Christopher’s father’s eyes, a little twinkle there that he didn’t notice from farther out, but now seems to shine. He is an attractive man, Buck can admit. He is shorter by an inch or two than Buck, but he looks fit, muscled and thick. His short, brown hair is neatly combed to the side, and his beard is trimmed short, scruffy at most. He wears a clean, wrinkle-free navy t-shirt with an open button down over it, and jeans fitted perfectly to his thighs.

In short, he is beautiful in a way Buck normally doesn’t go for. His body type is similar to Buck’s, and normally if Buck dates a man, he goes for men smaller than him. Pete, his ex in Hershey, is an analyst for some tech company. He wears thick glasses and needs help opening jars.

Buck doubts the man in front of him needs help with anything.

He extends his hand toward him, smiling politely as Max and Christopher whisper back and forth, “Evan Buckley. Everyone calls me Buck, though. Good to finally meet the man that makes my daughter want to randomly pull every fire alarm she comes across these days.”

“God, sorry, man.” He replies, slipping his rough, calloused hand into Buck’s. “Eddie Diaz.”

“I assume you’re a firefighter with all the fire safety tips Christopher seems to have.”

Eddie nods, hands on his hips, “Yeah, with the one-eighteen a few streets over.”

“That must be nice. Being able to stay close, I mean.”

“It is a perk.” Eddie smirks. “What about you? What do you do?”

“Oh, I’m with the—”

Principal Watson swings the door wide, walking out with a walkie talkie and a clip board. “Mr. Buckley, Mr. Diaz… The bell will be ringing in just a minute if you’d like to sign in. I’ll take these kiddos to their room.”

Eddie flips his wrist, glancing at his watch, “Shit—uh, shoot. I’m running late now.” He grabs the clipboard from the principal, signing his name quickly along with Chris’s. He hands the board and pen to Buck without a second thought, squatting to give Chris a hug and kiss. Buck signs the forms, half-listening to the Spanish Eddie’s speaking to Christopher.

“It was good to meet you. Maybe I’ll see you later.”

Buck nods, biting his cheek to keep from saying something stupid in this moment because unsurprisingly, he tends to say the wrong things when he feels nervous, and he feels very nervous. Not because he is romantically interested in Eddie Diaz—he is though—but because he has a hard time getting dates and an even harder time making friends. His therapist thinks a few friends would be good for him. A completely reasonable thought except Buck hasn’t spoken to a single person in the almost month he’s been in LA.

Take that, Dr. Frank. Evan Buckley is making friends.

***

Buck falls to the floor with a thunk, drenched in sweat and nearly suffocating from the human-like dummy the LAPD insists they train with most days. Personally, Buck would rather sling one of his own teammates over his shoulder instead of Timmy Longjohns, resident flimsy noodle. He isn’t the only one either. Just about everyone on his team gripes and groans about ole Timmy.

Monty, Alpha’s very own badass sniper, hauls ass down the training room toward him with a look of determination rivaling that of a survivalist in the woods trying to find food while simultaneously trying not to get eaten by a bear. Rebecca Montgomery was drafted to Alpha team a year before Buck was, and in that small timeframe, she’s managed to become well-known amongst her peers for things like her accuracy with a gun and her heavyweight right hook. She is also his guide and mentor since his arrival to the team since she is technically the low woman on the totem pole—minus Buck of course.

Truthfully he thought she hated him upon initial meeting, but Monty shocked him by quickly becoming a good friend and imparting little bouts of wisdom on him during training or patrols. They work well together, navigating the streets of LA together as partners. Buck has only been with Alpha team for three weeks, but he’s managed to find a better partner in Monty than any partner he’s been assigned before.

Monty collapses on the floor beside him, dropping her own Timmy Longjohns on the floor aggressively. Gasping for air while wiping her brow, she says, “Fuck, I hate these obstacle courses. Real life is never this chaotic.”

Buck snorts, “Yeah, tell that to the industrial building we combed last week…or the high rise we cleared the other day…or—”

“Okay, I get it. Fuck off.”

“Who was gearing up next?” Buck asks through a chuckle.

Monty huffs, jumping up and stretching. “Mitch and Grant.”

Buck follows suit, stretching with Monty then dragging their dummies back to the starting point. Mitch and Grant are standing at the line, shrugging into their gear while discussing a potential case.

Buck and Monty are on the bottom of Alpha team, respected members but essentially rookies. Mitchell Davies and Athena Grant are the head honchos, respected legends in every aspect of the job. Sergeant Grant is Alpha one, leading the team through any tactical plans and most negotiations. Mitch Davies is her second, Alpha two, and he is a tactical genius. Most tactical plans are pushed through Mitch first because unlike some of the other members, he can find a potential hole in the plan before anyone else. He’s saved their asses more than once, and Buck is a little star struck by him, hearing stories of his tactical assaults through other SWAT team applicants.

“I think that might’ve been Buck’s slowest time yet,” Mitch teases as they near the group.

Buck scoffs, a smirk on his lips, “Still faster than you, Mitchie.”

Monty claps him on the back and shoves her dummy towards the two of them, “I don’t know. You do seem a little less…”

“Talkative? Arrogant?” Mitch supplies.

Grant chimes in, “Bubbly? Easily distracted?”

“Well, this is starting to hurt.”

Monty laughs, “I was going to say a little less _you_ without so many descriptors, but I guess they covered that pretty well.” She plants her hands on her hips. “You do seem distracted though.”

Buck thinks back to when he dropped Max off at school, and his first meeting with Eddie Diaz, local firefighter hottie. He thinks about the soft smile warming his face and the tight shirt he wore, and maybe he even thinks about the way he recited something in Spanish to his son in parting. It’s not a secret that Buck adores kids. Come on, he has one of his own, so how can he not. What is a secret is his small, very minuscule really, sort of fetish for strong men with soft smiles and a firm handshake. He’s avoided the combination like the plague instead seeking out men more like Pete, so he would be the one in charge. After Ali screwed with him, he made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t give up that kind of control again.

Giving up that way makes him feel weak and vulnerable in a way he doesn’t like, and Eddie Diaz makes him want to submit wholly to him after just one meeting. It is dangerous to think of another person that way, man or woman, and Buck has struggled all day to keep his brain from envisioning bad, inappropriate things involving a certain daddy— _dear god someone stop him_ —who may or may not be married for god’s sake! Buck can’t let himself be entangled with a taken man. He won’t stoop that low. Ever.

Buck sniffs, rubbing his nose in an attempt to be nonchalant. He shoots a smirk Grant’s way, “Maybe that whole ‘stay focused’ speech a few days ago really resonated with me.”

Sergeant Grant huffs out a laugh, “Right, and I quit my job and grew a beard after my fortune cookie last night told me to move to an exotic country and live wildly.”

“Some fortune… I’m fine. Just focused. My time was better than last week.”

Mitch snaps the straps of his helmet under his chin, and Grant follows suit, each of them grabbing a dummy from the pile in the corner. Mitch claps Buck on his shoulder then faces forward, eyes on the obstacles ahead. “All I’m saying is last week when you beat your previous best, we didn’t hear the end of it for the rest of the day, you smug bastard.”

Monty chuckles, “Yeah, we get it. You’re in your fucking prime, Buckley. No need to make the rest of us look bad.”

“Hey! I work hard for this body, Monty. Don’t hate me ‘cuz you ain’t me.”

She smiles, scrunching her face in disgust, “God, make him stop.”

The large, fluorescent light changes from red to green with a slight buzz, and Monty and Buck step back as Mitch and Grant take off through the course. Mitch has a half second head start, but if there is anything Buck has learned in his short amount of time with Alpha team, it is to never underestimate Athena Grant. She will always come out on top, and she’s always right. That’s the reason she’s the big boss.

Monty taps his shoulder with a small tilt of her head for him to follow her across the room where a smattering of gym equipment sits unused at the moment. She immediately hops onto one of the three treadmills while Buck opts to grab a set of weights instead. He’s done enough running this morning.

“How’s Max settling in?”

Buck grins through a grunt at the mention of his kid, “She’s good. Made a little friend at school she wont stop babbling about.”

“You should bring her to Athena’s tonight.” Monty suggests, and Buck immediately feels that all too familiar hesitancy whenever one of his teammates suggest an outing where Max is involved. Every other Friday night Athena and her husband, Bobby, have a big get together with the team and some of his coworkers. He’s never asked exactly what he does for a living, but he imagines it is probably boring compared to being Alpha One for LAPD SWAT. Not much can top that.

Buck skipped his first Friday invite on account of he was still trying to settle into his new place. Change isn’t easy for Buck. The past few months of moving and changing jobs and schools makes him feel overwhelmed and anxious. He thrives on understanding his surroundings and taking comfort in the small security he feels from the routine of his daily life. Life in Hershey was the same day-in and day-out. It was unchanging in a way that coddled Buck, and after his speedy break-up with creeper Pete, it was the first time he acknowledged that he needed a little change in his life.

Knowing and doing are two different things though. He knows without a doubt that he is only hindering himself in the long run by trying to stay in his safe little bubble. Buck hasn’t always been this way, hasn’t always lived life so carefully. At one point, he’d been reckless and free, wetting his dick in anything that had a pulse and drinking himself into a stupor after his shifts. Maxine Buckley was his wake up call, his push into living a better, calmer life. The moment he saw her scrunched, alien-esque face in that grainy black and white ultrasound he’d been in love—even if she’d technically already been born at that point. It felt like, even though he and Ali were broken up—mainly friends with occasional benefits—and clearly not right for one another, the final missing piece to his puzzle clicked into place, and his world felt right.

He would do anything, be anything, for her.

Monty takes his extended silence as permission to really push forward in her efforts to persuade him into joining their get together. “There will be kids running around all night. It’s not some crazy rager, Buckley.” She stops her machine, turning to face him and levels him with a stare that either means she’s about to punch him in the face, or she’s going to get a little more serious than she would like, which means Buck is forcing her to _feel_ things. He’s going to get a lecture for that later. “Listen, kid—”

“I’m older than you, Monty.”

“—until you decide to be a part of this team, to join us in our brother and sisterhood, you won’t actually be _a part_ of Alpha team. You get me?”

Buck sighs, “I get you. It’s nothing personal. Just…”

“I get it. We all get it, man. We’re tight-knit here though, so if you can’t trust the people watching your six, who can you trust?”

“Have you always been…” Buck pauses, searching for the right word.

Monty grins cheekily, “Sage and wise? Yes.”

“I was goin’ to say harpy and annoying, but sure.”

***

That night when Buck finally makes his way home after his shift, he messages Maddie to inform her and Max of their new plans. The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes Monty is right. Until he starts trusting his team like he needs to, he’s always going to be a candidate stuck in a revolving door, trading teams, until eventually no one wants him because in his line of work you can’t afford to have a man at your six whose head isn’t in the game.

Max and Maddie are sitting at the coffee table cross-legged doing some coloring sheet with the number two stretched across it. There are various sizes of crayons scattered from her chest of writing utensils Buck keeps hidden in his closet, and Max has several random marker swipes across her arms, face, and clothes.

Buck drops his bag on the floor beside the couch, plopping down on the other side of Max while she colors with a brutal fierceness that makes Buck think he’s clearly missed whatever has happened that has made her practically run a hole through her paper.

Buck lifts a brow at his sister. At her answering shrug, Buck taps his daughter on the shoulder. “Hey, where’s my hug? Or kiss? I think I might start crying big tears.”

Max gasps, dropping her crayon quickly and wrapping her tiny arms loosely around her father’s neck, staring at him with wide eyes. “Like Alice? She cried and cried and cried until there was water _erry_ where.”

“Exactly like Alice. Good thing I got my lovin’ huh?”

Max nods, a sober expression on her baby face. She brings two blue fingertips to his chin before releasing him to wiggle back to her coloring sheet. She picks up a yellow marker—its tip no longer yellow but blacky-brown and disgusting—to finish a section of her number.

Maddie sighs, “Max. Remember I told you we’re going to meet some of mine and daddy’s friends? We have to go, girl.”

“No!” Max whines. “I have to finish my…” she leans into Buck and whispers, “What’s the word, Daddy?”

“Homework?” Buck whispers back.

Max declares, “I have to finish my home _werk_!”

Buck salutes, “Aye aye, Captain. I’ll go freshen up then. I think I smell.” He wrinkles his nose at her as she giggles.

“You could definitely use a shower. Make sure you get that streak right there—” She points to a spot under her jaw close to her ear.

“Got it, mom.”

Maddie grins shyly, “Howie works with Bobby, So you guys can finally meet him.”

“Athena’s husband, Bobby? I thought you said Howie was a firefighter?”

_Don’t think about a certain hot daddy firefighter from this morning. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about—_

Maddie nods, her brow dipping, “He is. Bobby is the captain at the one-eighteen.”

_What station is Eddie at again? One-eighteen? No. Maybe? God, why can’t he remember? Oh, yeah, because he was too busy admiring the way his jeans fit him so well._

“Oh.”

“Is that…a problem?” Maddie asks, concern etching through her features. She pushes up from the floor, her knee popping quietly, and Buck wants to make a joke about joints cracking and old age, but it doesn’t seem like the right time. Maddie continues before Buck can formulate a response, “Did something happen? You can tell me, Evan.”

Buck snorts, “Nothing happened, Mads. I just… Do you know all of the, uh, firefighters at the one-eighteen?”

There. That is totally inconspicuous. Harmless.

Except Maddie narrows her eyes, a familiar glint sparking there that makes Buck groan, ready to retract his question. She replies, “I know the crew that works with Howie specifically. Some others, but mainly just those few firefighters.”

Max decides that would be a great time to chime in with, “Christopher’s daddy is a fireman. But only in _err-_ gencies.” She finishes with a hard squint as she fails to get that pesky big word correct.

“Emergencies, Maxie.”

Maddie’s grin is big enough to blind him. It is obnoxious and a little creepy. “Christopher’s daddy, huh? Funny. I know a Chris whose daddy works with Howie at the station. Cute little kid.”

Max nods enthusiastically, “Yeah! He hit me with his stick thing.”

“Max…crutch. It’s a crutch.” _Good god. Stick thing._

“Well, we should get going. Don’t want to be late, or anything. Plus,” Maddie pauses, and Buck can tell by the look on her face that she is about to _take it there,_ “I’m sure Max wants to play with her buddy, Chris, and maybe eat a brownie or two.”

Max squeals. Full-out squeals. It erupts out of her like something demonic that makes her crayons and markers fly across the room along with her sheet she no longer has any concerns about. Her hands are fisted tight as she shakes them happily by her head, a grin the size of Texas taking up residence on her face.

“Go, Daddy! Go wash your dirty booty!”

“Excuse me? Rude.”

***

As soon as Maddie, Buck, and Max step through the threshold of the Grant-Nash home, Maddie takes off toward the kitchen to hunt down her boyfriend while Max tugs roughly on his hand, so she can search for a certain little boy.

Meanwhile Buck is still struggling to get a fucking grip even after the entire drive over. His mind is racing with thoughts of a hunky man he should not be interested in, and his heart is racing at the prospect of seeing his gorgeous face again. He struggled for fifteen minutes in his room, staring at his closet, trying to figure out what the fuck to wear. He never has a problem choosing what to wear mainly because he just wears jeans or khakis, some kind of plain shirt, and maybe a jacket. He doesn’t get fancy, but suddenly he needs to look better than his usual.

Maddie eventually took pity on him after his fifteen minutes of catatonic staring into the abyss that is his closet. She threw a pair of jeans and a long sleeve, tan Henley at him with an exasperated yet fond sigh and a smack to his cheek ( _“Stay strong, baby brother. The hardest part is yet to come.”)_. To which he thought about flinging himself out of his window to his death, which probably would’ve been a great plan if Max hadn’t squealed her excitement like a crazy person until he came downstairs and his window wasn’t on the first floor.

Stupid house.

“Daddy! Come on! There he is!”

Buck lets Max drag him through the house, waving at a few people he knows from work, but for the most part the house is empty. The main bulk of the guests are outside enjoying the nice weather while a gaggle of kids run around the yard. Buck spots Christopher lagging slightly behind the group, and before he can react, Max takes off in a fucking sprint till she almost tackles him, barely slowing down to wrap her skinny arms around him.

“Evan Buckley in the flesh!” Monty yells across the yard as soon as he steps over the threshold to the backyard, distracting him from the sight of his daughter and her friend. She waves him over, reaching into the cooler at her feet for a beer. She holds it out for him as he nears her, and he nods his thanks, pointedly keeping his eyes on her instead of searching the people standing around her for the one face he actually wants to see. Monty keeps talking as he opens his drink, “I thought you’d bail again to be honest.”

Buck chuckles halfheartedly, “Funny. I did too.”

A hand claps his shoulder, and Athena squeezes him with a smile, “Buck. Glad you finally made it. I see your little one is fitting in nicely.”

Buck looks across the yard where Max and Christopher with another little boy he doesn’t recognize are sitting in the grass giggling throwing pieces of grass at one another. Max is sitting side by side with Chris, her shoulder against his, and he can’t remember the last time he had seen his daughter so happy outside of being home with her dad. Christopher leans over with his arm outstretched to pick a dandelion that’s a little too far for him to reach, but Max grabs his arm and shoulder, holding him so he doesn’t fall over. When he rights himself, he hands the slightly smooshed flower to Max, and her answering grin is bright and beautiful, wide and bursting with happiness.

Athena laughs, snapping her fingers excitedly, “Just like his dad, huh, Eddie?”

Buck snaps his head up at the mention of Eddie, and his eyes find the man in question quickly since he’s already glancing Buck’s way. Like something out of a high school rom-com, the two of them both avert their eyes immediately after contact is made, opting to look anywhere but at each other until a few moments later when the same thing happens all over again. Eddie’s eyes skim over Buck’s face as Buck’s eyes skim all over Eddie’s tight jeans and shirt before their eyes meet, and that same awkwardness settles over them.

Buck wants to smack himself. He wants to smack Monty for even talking him into coming, and he definitely wants to smack Maddie for encouraging his crush on Eddie and leaving him by himself as soon as they arrived.

Speak of the devil…

“Buck!” Maddie says, nearing their group with a short, happy Asian man in tow. “Buck, this is Howie. Howie, this is my brother, Buck.”

Buck shakes the man’s hand. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Maddie insisted on giving you space. Says you get overwhelmed easily which is confusing because of your job,” Howie laughs.

Maddie squawks while Buck smirks at her. “I didn’t say that.” She smacks Howie on the shoulder.

Eddie pipes up from the other side of the circle, “No, I definitely remember her saying that.”

“I cannot believe this. I thought we were friends, Eddie.”

Eddie shrugs, “Maybe if you bring me my own tub of cookies, we’ll talk. Till then I’m team Buck.”

Well, if it isn’t obvious, Buck’s cheeks are flaming, blotchy and red and totally unattractive at that statement. Eddie is staring at him intently, a little too intently for a man with a wedding ring on his finger.

Holy god.

_He is wearing a wedding ring! On his left hand! On his ring finger!_

Had he been wearing that this morning? Oh, no. Has Buck spent all day pining after a married man?

Shame. Shame on him, on his sister, on his own daughter—how dare she? This is basically her fault. Shame on his cow! (Okay, no more Disney movies. They’re rotting his brain.)

Maddie giggles, oblivious to Buck’s internal meltdown, and goes about negotiating with Eddie over his request for a tub of cookies in exchange for secrecy. Buck manages to keep his head down the whole while, only lifting it to search out Max, who has stayed in the same spot with Christopher the entire night.

Monty eventually rests her arm over his shoulder, leaning into him like she’s been drinking too much, but he knows her well enough by now to know she is just trying to comfort him. Because she’s apparently realized his mood has gone to shit.

“Is this sudden pouty face about a certain hot dad?”

Buck snorts, “So tactful.”

Monty head-butts his shoulder, “Stop deflecting. I saw the looks. Hell, you’d have to be a blind, half-dead, idiot to miss the heated stares he was giving you, so why’re you all…” she gestures wildly at his entire being, “bleh.”

“Because nothing is happening. I’m not pouty, or whatever. I’m just watching my daughter.”

“Mhm. Just saying I could set you up. Maybe a secret rendezvous! Oh—”

“What is wrong with you? I’m not having some secret fling with Eddie Diaz.” Buck states incredulously.

Eddie must cheat on his partner a lot considering how willing his team and friends are willing to cover for him and even help him find dates. Part of Buck is disgusted by not only Eddie’s behavior, who he had really thought was a good man after one meeting (stupid), but Maddie and Monty’s too.

Monty nods solemnly, “Sure thing, Buckley. I’m going to get another drink.”

Now, Buck just feels like a dick.

***

By some miracle, Buck manages to avoid one Eddie Diaz for the rest of the evening, carefully ducking and weaving his way around the yard, never backing himself into a corner. Not that Eddie is playing some weird game of hide and seek with him around Athena and Bobby’s yard, but Buck also can’t dismiss the number of times he has caught Eddie’s eyes on him. The worst part is the little thrill that shudders through his body every time before he remembers the man is fucking married!

Buck cracks his neck, trying to shake off the shock of the evening, and converses with Maddie, Howie, and Monty for a few more minutes before floating inside to throw away Max’s brownie plate—four brownies! She charmed her way into four brownies!—and his empty beer he’s been nursing all night. No one is in the house, so Buck ventures through the dining area to the small kitchen, cleaning up a little here and there where he sees it.

“Athena will beat you black and blue if she catches you cleaning her house.”

Buck startles, jumping back and knocking his hip against the counter painfully. He rubs the offended area over his jeans, scowling at the man leaning on his forearms on the bar in front of him. “It’s rude to sneak up on people, you know?”

Eddie chuckles, “Yeah, I guess. Wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t been avoiding me all night.” _No, the way Eddie tilts his head curiously was not adorable._ “Why’s that?”

“I’m not—I wasn’t…” Buck sighs. He shouldn’t be the one on trial here. He steels himself, squaring his shoulders as he lifts a brow, “How’s your wife?”

Eddie’s brow furrows, a sadness creeping into his eyes that hadn’t been there, and for a moment Buck regrets asking. Eddie clears his throat, “I’m not sure why you’re asking about my _ex_ -wife, but she’s at Greenville Cemetery if you want to see her.”

Buck gapes, open mouthed and very fish-like.

“It’s a bit of a drive to Texas though.”

Buck closes his eyes, swallowing slowly. When he opens his eyes, Eddie is no longer leaning against the counter, instead standing up straight, arms folded over his chest defensively. Buck puffs his cheeks then says, “I’m _so_ sorry. The…ring…it confused me.”

Eddie looks down at his hands, an amused grin lighting up his face as he slips the ring off of his finger, depositing it into his pocket after a quick look. “I forgot I was even wearing it. Sorry, that was…unintentional.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. Losing a spouse isn’t easy.”

“Oh, Shannon? She passed three years ago. We were separated already. It hurt, but she wasn’t… _it,_ you know?” Eddie rubs at the spot where the ring in his pocket had just sat. He shrugs. “This ring is a cheap thing Chris got from one of those little quarter machine. The gem fell out, and he wanted to toss it.”

Buck smiles quizzically, “So why wear it?”

“Athena and Maddie always try to set me up at these dumb things. I’m just trying to have a beer with friends, and they’re inviting randos they meet while out.” Eddie chuckles. “I wear the ring for protection. Keep the singles away.”

“That…actually makes a lot of sense. Good idea,” he says with a forced smile.

It isn’t that his feeling were suddenly hurt. They aren’t. It is more along the lines of emotional whiplash that is leaving him feeling a little sick. One moment he has hope that maybe fate is pulling them together, and fate isn’t something Buck actually believes in, but he lets himself indulge for the moment on the off chance that something destined is happening. Then the next moment he is pouting in the corner with absolutely no hope for anything ever again, which is dramatic and totally unnecessary, but that’s how he feels. A sudden coldness settling over the small amount of grace he’s granted himself. Then he’s back to hopeful and giddy, two things he shouldn’t be because then he’s left reeling once more as Eddie crushes him with that one little line.

 _Keep the singles away_. So he isn’t looking for love? That’s fine. Totally. Buck isn’t looking for love either. No way.

Fate is weird, he decides, and while he thinks this little excursion with fate and destiny—whatever, okay?—should deter him from ever thinking such a silly notion could exist, it only further proves itself to him. Mainly because it makes sense in a weird way. Buck knows that Max and Chris will be lifelong friends; he can feel that deep in his bones, and maybe that means Eddie is supposed to be Buck’s mid-lifelong friend because fate, the sneaky temptress, knows Buck could use one of those.

So, yeah, maybe he believes fate is a thing now. Or maybe he wants to lean on it like a crutch, so that he can explain all of his problems away without having to take or place blame…

Eddie leans forward on the counter, “So? What do you think?”

“Huh?”

Eddie chuckles, pushing off the counter and rounding it to stand in front of Buck with a smug smirk on his face. “You weren’t listening to a thing I said, huh?”

Buck bites his lip and shakes his head. “Uh, no?”

Buck watches the man in front of him take a step closer, only a foot or two of space between them now, as his eyes stay glued onto Buck’s mouth, watching the way Buck chews on his full bottom lip. Something in his eyes has changed. Amused? Sure, but there is something else. Something Buck is a little scared to name.

Luckily, Eddie saves him from the responsibility by doing it for him.

“I was saying,” Eddie takes another step forward, “we should go out.”

Buck’s brow furrows, and he bites down on his lip again, releasing it quickly after Eddie’s eyes are immediately drawn there again. “Like…with the kids? A play date. Sure, yeah, Max will love that. I’ll send you my cal—”

Three fingers press onto Buck’s lips, a gentle pressure to make his mouth stop its verbal vomit, and Buck’s eyes widen comically, a gasp punching out of him because he _likes it_. Likes it in a very inappropriate way.

“I thought more along the lines of dinner,” Eddie removes his hand, and Buck can’t stop the small pout on his lips before he recovers, “and maybe a movie. Just us. No kids.”

Buck swallows, nervous and disbelieving, “Dinner? A movie? No kids…”

“Oh, and kissing. Definitely.”

“O-okay. Yeah.”

Eddie’s answering grin is beautiful, wide and breathtaking, a testament to how happy he is to hear Buck’s agreement. “Great. How’s Wednesday night? Is that enough time for you to arrange a sitter, or do you need more?”

“Uh,” Buck tries to think. He really does. “That’ll—I can do that, yeah.”

His brain feels a little scrambled, like maybe he’s had way more than the one beer and suddenly he needs to lie down because the room is spinning but with like joy and flowers…? It doesn’t make a lot of sense. All he knows is that Eddie Diaz, who is not married, has asked him on a date. Not a play date with their kids. Not a coy little invite to some after work get together. Eddie Diaz pulled on his big boy pants, took the reins, and asked Buck out with a confident lit to his lips that makes Buck’s heart race and his nostrils flare.

Control is a big deal for Buck, but he’s just crumbled like a Jenga tower to Eddie’s confidence…and it feels great, a little nerve-wracking and a whole lot naughty.

“Give me your phone.”

Buck immediately grabs his phone from his pocket then pauses, “Wait, why?”

He slides the phone easily from Buck’s grasp, unlocking the device and punching a couple of buttons. “My number.” He holds the phone out to Buck, who takes it gently from his hands. “Now you can message me if something changes…” Eddie smirks, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “or anything else you’d like to send my way.”

“Ha…haha, okay. Yeah, yes.”

God, what is wrong with him?

A little hand wraps around Buck’s ankle, and he rolls his eyes, sighing as he holds a finger up to Eddie. He looks down at the little girl dramatically quiet-screaming on the floor. “Excuse me, little mermaid, this is a shark free zone.”

Max ups her theatrics, “But I saw a shark, King Tri-den!” She squeals as Chris army-crawled on the floor behind her, grabbing at her legs with a blinding smile on his face. “Ah! King Tri-den, help!”

Buck laughs then gasps at the Christopher-shark smiling at him. He winks then tickles his fingers down Max’s legs before attacking Chris’s sides, kneeling on the ground with them.

Chris is panting and gasping through his infectious laughter as Max is pulling Eddie to the floor as well with strict instructions to “Do what King Tri-den does, okay, Bashten?” which makes Buck’s heart melt. Eddie nods in understanding then promptly begins tickling his daughter until she’s a writhing, snorting mess. Chris is reaching his hand out for her, roles forgotten in the chaos, to save her even though he is in his own world of trouble.

“What the fresh hell is happening in here? It sounds like a pack of hyenas on steroids or som—holy crap.”

Buck straightens at the same time Monty whips her phone out to take pictures of their current predicament on the floor.

_Click._

Eddie is smiling and breathing heavily, and Buck can’t help the smile on his face as he stares at the man beside him.

_Click._

Fuck, he’s in trouble.


	2. a strange, unpopular restaurant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like.“ —lemony snicket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention this in the first update, but I had a horrendously long list of potential titles for this fic before I decided on the perfect “red thread of fate”. So since I had so many that I liked, each chapter title will feature a potential title off of my list. I’ll leave the inspiration behind the title as well. (Most are song lyrics though. Lol) I’ll edit ch one to add the song it’s from! 
> 
> I think I’m going to try to stick to an update schedule of twice a week for this fic. Probably Tuesdays and Saturdays. 
> 
> Also, I’ll probably say this every chapter, but a huge thank you to donut247hey, who is literally the reason this fic even exists. She’s been the ultimate friend and beta throughout the whole process, so you should thank her for this fic. It’s basically FOR her anyways. 
> 
> ALSO I am not in the BDSM community. I only know what I research myself. That being said, this will feature elements, but it also won’t be super rigid in the sense that this bleeds into their lifestyle. I really just want to have fun with it. I did a lot of research myself for this, and I wrote Buck’s perspective though my own newbie eyes. If you do happen to know anything about BDSM, and you’d like to correct anything I happen to get horribly wrong, FEEL FREE FO CALL A BITCH OUT. 
> 
> Thank you for being so lovely. I hope everyone had a safe, healthy, happy holiday! 
> 
> I am on tumblr being a general nuisance to society, and reblogging a lot of content about one (1) Evan Buckley and his extremely sexy, not-safe-for-life body parts.  
> http://fernnette.tumblr.com/

**Sunday**

**To:** Eddie Diaz

 **From:** Evan Buckley

_This is Buck. Just remembered I never gave you my number so here it is_

**To:** Evan Buckley

 **From:** Eddie Diaz

_[1 Attatchment]_

_Good timing on your part_

  
Holyshitballs.

Buck opens the attachment then closes it quickly. Then he opens it again and stares for a solid five minutes before slamming his phone down on his bed between his legs. The picture isn’t anything crazy risqué. Hell, Buck has sent and received way worse, but for some reason this picture is _doing_ things to Buck, namely his hardening dick.

Buck turns the phone over again, slowly like the picture might reach out and bite him, or something. It still stares back at him. A dirty, sooty, absolutely filthy shirtless Eddie stands in front of a mirror in what looks like the station’s locker room with his navy uniform t-shirt thrown haphazardly over one shoulder and one hand stuffed into the pocket of his slacks. He looks good. So good. His hair is wild, and his skin is streaked with soot and dirt and sweat.

Much to Buck’s dismay, his sweats are beginning to tent uncomfortably.

 **To:** Evan Buckley

 **From:** Eddie Diaz

_Proper etiquette when sent a pic is to send one back, but I’ll let you off the hook this time as long as you tell me how good I look :)_

  
Buck is grinning like an idiot at his phone, and before he can stop himself he’s whipping his loose t-shirt over his head and arranging himself as naturally yet posed as possible. He clicks a few pictures, deleting every one of them after careful examination. Eddie’s picture looks so effortless, like he just snapped it on his way to his locker.

He leans over the bed to grab his t-shirt and pulls it back on. Instead of trying and so clearly failing to snap a sexy picture for Eddie, he hoists himself up against his headboard. He holds his phone out and snaps a couple of pictures ranging from stoic to dear-god-you’ll-shatter-the-camera-with-a-smile-that-big.

After careful consideration he attaches the photo that would’ve been scrapped immediately if he hadn’t been scrolling through and zooming. He is leaning back with a soft smile on his face. His blonde hair is curling around his face wildly, and he tells himself he needs to get a haircut soon. His finger is over the camera slightly, framing the casual picture perfectly, and Buck hits the send button without an ounce of hesitation.

 **To:** Eddie Diaz

 **From:** Evan Buckley

_[1 Attachment]_

_Be careful saving the world_

**Monday**

**To:** Eddie Diaz

 **From:** Evan Buckley

_[1 Attachment]_

_From Max for you and Chris_

**To:** Evan Buckley

 **From:** Eddie Diaz

_No offense but what the fuck is that_

**To:** Eddie Diaz

 **From:** Evan Buckley

_You mean you can’t tell that my talented four year old colored Chris and his daddy riding a rocket-shark to your house on the moon? Huh. Are you sure you passed all your required parenting classes?_

**To:** Evan Buckley

 **From:** Eddie Diaz

_First of all fuck you._

_I can see it if I tilt my head 90 degrees and close one eye then close the other and use my imagination._

**Tuesday**

**To:** Evan Buckley

 **From:** Eddie Diaz

_[1 Attachment]_

_Is this you? Lol_

**To:** Eddie Diaz

 **From:** Evan Buckley

_[1 Attachment]_

_I don’t know. Is this you in the big red truck? ;)_

**Wednesday**

**To:** Evan Buckley

 **From:** Eddie Diaz

_It’s d-day. You aren’t going to chicken out, right?_

**To:** Eddie Diaz

 **From:** Evan Buckley

_No_

**To:** Evan Buckley

 **From:** Eddie Diaz

_I’m going to need more enthusiasm. It sounds like I’m making you date me against your will? Lol_

_What’s wrong? If you seriously don’t want to go out, that’s okay._

**To:** Eddie Diaz

 **From:** Evan Buckley

_I’m fine. We’re still on. See you later, Diaz._

Evan Buckley is not fine. Things are not okay, and he is pretty sure he’s going to throw up all over his goddamn house before he ever makes it to the restaurant.

He is nervous, so incredibly anxious that he can’t stop sweating, and his chest is painfully tight. Maddie had to come by earlier to steal Max away for the day, and the best she could give was a slap on the back (“ _Oh, Evan…”_ ). By the time he decided to ask Maddie for advice (or to clarify her _oh_ ), he could only make out ‘fishies’ and ‘dory, daddy, come on’ between Max’s excited squeals, and that left him twitching and overwhelmed. So they had to go.

Buck prides himself on being in control, confident and a little arrogant if he’s honest, but he’s felt anything but confident the last few days talking to Eddie. Not necessarily in a bad way. More like in a way he just hasn’t experienced. Everything feels a little different with Eddie. He is physically different from any man Buck would date for the sole reason of needing to keep his sanity and control during a relationship, but he immediately lets his guard down for Eddie, stripping the clunky armor and hideous mask so he can just _be._

And it’s nice. It _is_ nice to just be in the moment with Eddie because none of it feels forced, or for show. Buck is a stammering fool for the first time in his life, and that is a big deal. He’s never let someone rattle him. His high school girlfriend, Abby, wasn’t even this bad, and he lost his virginity to her. Ali, his baby mama, was more of a friends with benefits type deal than it really was a relationship. Pete Walsh had been Buck’s latest fling, and it almost turned him off of dating all together. (Just a super creeper, that one.)

The point is…well, he isn’t sure. It all just feels a little too right and easy, which only makes Buck think about tangling his thoughts around with fate again. Destiny and all that crap.

Because he is not saying he suddenly believes in fate because he managed to snag a hot guy who seems genuine and super into him, but he is also not _not_ saying that. Basically, Buck is skeptical. It feels like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, and they haven’t even gone on their first date!

Sure, he’s being a little crazy. He could admit it.

Part of him wants to do exactly what Eddie thinks and bail on him, so he can’t bear witness to whatever god awful thing is going to happen to him tonight to embarrass him enough that Eddie never wants to see him again. The other part of him wants to slap himself for even entertaining the idea of letting Eddie Diaz slip through his fingers.

All of the puzzle pieces in Buck’s life are beginning to line up and click into place with a level of efficiency he isn’t used to because things are never easy for Buck. Things are never good and happy and easy. They are strenuous and chaotic and a little pitiful.

His phone buzzes a few moments later after he’s finally settled on a soft, pale green sweater and khakis with his denim jacket over it. Maddie had originally laid the outfit on the bed for him, but in a moment of petulant insanity, he shoved it to the floor because he is an adult, and _he doesn’t need help dressing himself._ But he’s also hopeless, so here he is sitting on his bed wearing the outfit his sister picked out for him.

God.

 **To:** Evan Buckley

 **From:** Maddie Buckley

_[1 Attachment]_

_Max is having a blast, but she said something about her daddy bringing her himself._

_Have fun tonight, Evan. Stop worrying. You’re a great man, and he’s lucky you’re giving him the time of day._

_We’ll be home by eight, so please don’t let me see any dangly boy parts. I might die._

  
Buck can’t stop the bark of laughter that bubbles out of his chest.

 **To:** Maddie Buckley

 **From:** Evan Buckley

_You were doing so well until you weren’t._

_Be safe and all that. Got it. Thanks Mads_

***

Ten minutes before Buck is all set to head toward the little Italian Bistro Eddie had picked out a couple of days prior, he receives a message from the man himself requesting Buck meet him at a diner a few miles from Buck’s house. He is kind of grateful considering he’s running incredibly behind, and now he is right on time. It works out well thankfully.

Part of him wants to be irritated at the sudden venue change, but all he feels is relief as he slides into an open booth to wait for Eddie. The diner is casual, comfortable and safe. The diner doesn’t force Buck into a situation of posturing for the sake of appearances when all he really wants to do is sink into the vinyl bench seat and eat more french fries than he should. He doesn’t want the fancy Italian restaurants or the stilted conversation that comes along with stuffy places like that. Buck has had enough of that bullshit in Hershey. Los Angeles is different. Eddie is different. Don’t ask him how he knows already. He just does.

From the moment he’d laid eyes on the man he’d known his whole world was going to shift. He really should’ve known when Max grew so attached to Chris because isn’t that just icing on the metaphorical love-cake that their kids would get along so well.

Buck’s initial reaction to Eddie would’ve normally been to run, or have no-strings attached sex, but he finds himself unable to do either.

Pesky fate back at work, and Buck is hopeless against her meddling. Honestly, he doesn’t really want to fight whatever it is that he feels for the other man for once. He just wants to be _seen_ , to _feel_ , to be loved and love in return.

Buck shakes his head at his serious thoughts, bringing himself back to the present where he’s nursing a water quietly in the corner of the diner. It is entirely too soon for him to be so consumed by thoughts of domesticity and long-term plans.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Eddie asks, startling Buck from where he’s been staring, as he slides into the booth in front of Buck, which he’s grateful for since it saves him from standing awkwardly and making a fool of himself.

Buck smiles sheepishly, “Uh, honestly? I’m nervous. Really, _really_ nervous.”

Eddie, whose lips quirk into a half-grin, folds his hands in front of him on top of the table after waving the waitress over. He orders a water for himself then turns his attention back to Buck. “What about me makes you nervous?”

“It’s not you, really. It’s just…” Buck feels ultimately compelled to tell Eddie his feelings, all the complicated, contradictory ones that don’t make a whole lot of sense, “you aren’t typically the kind of man I, you know, go out with.”

“You don’t typically date attractive, single dads that find you beautiful and intriguing?” Eddie smirks quizzically, teasing.

Buck freezes with his straw sliding slowly out of his mouth then says, “No actually.”

Eddie doesn’t seem deterred by the small admission. If anything there’s a steely determination settling in him that radiates outward in a way that makes Buck clench in awareness, makes him fist his hands under the table like a teenager on his first date.

The waitress interrupts them a moment later for their orders. Buck watches raptly as Eddie orders a decked out cheeseburger and fries, and he blushes as he orders the same, enjoying the satisfied look on Eddie’s face. It feels good to piggyback off of Eddie. Usually it’s the other way around, and it’s like a weight has been lifted at the prospect of flipping the script.

Buck clears his throat after the waitress walks away, and he uses the momentary lapse in conversation to study the man sitting across from him. He looks great, better than great honestly. His hair is in the same neat style he’s always seen it in, and he’s wearing an off-white Henley and jeans. He’s casual, completely in his element.

“So,” Buck starts, “why did you choose this place?”

Eddie fiddles with his straw wrapper, folding it like an accordion before letting it bounce open. “Christopher and I come here sometimes. Food’s decent enough.” He leans forward, whispering, “Plus I thought you might be reconsidering after your horribly cryptic texts. One word responses aren’t typical of the Evan Buckley I know.”

Buck has the decency to blush, thinking back to his near panic attack before he left his house. He wasn’t reconsidering, really. The opposite actually. He wants nothing more than to meet with Eddie and date him and divulge his dirty secrets and let their kids grow closer. Buck wants all the seriousness that he’s steered clear from, and that’s what sent him into a spiraling vortex of misery and doom.

“Uh, not reconsidering. Just…I don’t usually do _this_ , or date seriously in general.”

“So you aren’t looking for serious? That’s fine. I don’t want to pressure you, Buck.”

Buck feels another blush creeping over his face, and the tips of his ears grow hot. If there is anything Buck values it’s honesty, so he needs to hold himself to the same standard.

“No, no. I’m saying that—what I’m _trying_ to say is that I want serious. Not fun.” Buck pauses, “I mean, yes, I want fun, but I want to have fun and seriousness. No funny business.”

Eddie stares at him, his eyes narrowed slightly, studying him intensely, and for a moment Buck has a flash of uncertainty because he is essentially baring his soul on the first date, and Eddie, nice guy that he is, is probably looking for fun, which is the opposite of what Buck is trying—and failing—to explain to him.

“Sorry. That was…too much. I can do fun, no-strings. Totally. That’s fine. That is _fine,_ ” Buck slices his hand through the air in front of him, hoping he’s portraying himself as cool and calm as he thinks he is.

“Buck?”

“Yep?”

Eddie grins, “Stop talking for a minute.”

Buck nods, snapping his mouth shut with all the grace he can muster.

He watches as Eddie leans back in his seat, hands clasped under the table as he gazes at Buck. Before he can speak, a waiter comes by with their food, and Eddie thanks him politely but doesn’t touch his own yet. Buck takes guidance from him and leaves his own plate untouched for the time being as well.

“You know, I met you before that school morning, right?” Eddie casually asks, and Buck’s brow furrows as he shakes his head. “We worked a call together. You were too focused to notice me, I guess, but I noticed you. I couldn’t stop staring at you actually. Very distracting in your uniform.”

Buck doesn’t know what to say, so he just sits there, eyes wide, lip caught between his teeth, brow dipped low in confusion.

Eddie continues, “You’re much different in this setting than you are when you’re working.”

“Well, yeah. Isn’t everybody?”

“I suppose, sure. But you were intense and hard and unwavering. I watched you practically body slam a man two times your size for attempting to force his way through the barrier.” Eddie chuckles as he recalls the memory, and Buck suddenly remembers the case he is talking about. Buck’s second case he worked with the team. “But here? With me? You’re shy and blushing. You babble and make horrible assumptions due to what I assume are your own insecurities. The differences are astonishing.”

Buck frowns, “And you want work-Buck? You want confident and arrogant. Not insecure and quiet.”

“There you go again. Making horrible assumptions.”

“I’m not sure what you’re saying, Eddie. It sounds like you’re saying I’m not the guy you thought I was.” Buck is beginning to get frustrated, and he scrubs a hand through his hair roughly.

Eddie leans forward again, face a mixture of utter seriousness and his own bit of frustration that Buck isn’t getting whatever it is he’s trying to say. “I want the real Buck. I want whatever Buck is fucking real and true to himself. I don’t want a show, or false confidence because you think that’s what I want. Give me raw and genuine. Give me the truth.”

“I—I don’t…” _I don’t know_. That’s what Buck tries to say. He doesn’t know which version of him is the actual real deal Evan Buckley. He’s spent so long being different things for different people that he isn’t quite sure how to just be Evan.

Eddie sighs, “I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s just—we’ll keep it light and fun for now.” He points at Buck’s cooling plate, “Eat.”

Buck immediately digs into his food without a second thought, and he notes Eddie’s pleased smirk as he chews his bite.

Two hours later, the two of them are leaning happily against the back of their seats as they talk like old friends who’ve lost touch. Conversation flows easily, and Buck finds himself willing to spill every dirty little secret he’s ever had while Eddie seems to be in the same boat. He is an open book. Any question Buck asks he answers while still seeming to make Buck blush cherry red. (“What would you be doing if you weren’t a firefighter?” _Mechanic, probably? I’m good with my hands._ “Oh, well, that’s a good…thing. Good hands. That’s good.” _I was hoping you’d think so._ ) There is so much to learn about Eddie Diaz, and Buck wants to know everything. He wants to read every page of his book, study the text and make notes in the margin.

In turn, Eddie digs in deep, equally wanting to know Buck, and he enjoys the slight thrill that runs down his spine at how cared for that makes him feel. It isn’t that no one has ever tried to get to know him. It’s more that Eddie does it with an open face, eyes flickering over him attentively, body leaning in towards him as he tells a story. It is the way Eddie’s entire being seems intent and invested on knowing Buck. That’s what makes him different. He isn’t chatting with Buck to get into his pants. There is no ulterior motive other than a genuine interest.

Buck taps his fingers on the table as he watches Eddie’s face light up beautifully while he recounts the story of finding out he was going to be a dad then the day Christopher was born. Eddie speaks of Shannon in a high regard, with a lot of love even though clearly there was a lot of baggage between them, and he doesn’t skimp on the details, going as far as to pull out his phone and find pictures from the big day.

The bright smile on Eddie’s face touches something in Buck, fuels his body and revvs him up in ways he hasn’t felt in a long time. His skin itches as he fights some baser instinct to lean across the table and lay claim to this man, to show him and the rest of this diner that he wants Eddie Diaz. He wants to see this smile for the rest of his life, and he wants to be the one who put it there.

And that is a scary thought. He’s known Eddie for less than a week. This is a first date. But Buck is envisioning a future with this man, and that is just not something he does.

“What about Max?” Eddie asks, interrupting his terrifying thoughts, “Was it as magical for you as it was for me?”

Buck huffs out a laugh, looking down at his water, “Um, no. I didn’t even know Ali was pregnant until a month after Max was born. Ali and I weren’t on great terms.”

Eddie frowns, shifting forward so he can lean closer to Buck, “What happened?”

“I guess what usually happens. Ali got pregnant. She thought I wouldn’t want to be a part of the baby’s life for some reason. She gave birth and realized she needed help, so she found me at the station one day with a tiny Max in tow.” Buck smiles at the memory, remembering how little Max had been, how much she’d looked like Buck even then. He clears his throat, “Anyways, she stuck around for a while. We tried to work it out, be together, you know? But, uh, that was the whole reason we weren’t on good terms to begin with…”

“Why? She didn’t want a relationship?”

“No, I didn’t. It sounds bad, but she was just…fun. I thought we were on the same page about all of it. Guess not.” Buck shrugs because what else can he do? He wouldn’t change what happened with Ali. The whole ordeal brought him Max, and he’d rather be alone and happy with Max right now than miserable with Ali in Hershey. “She left two years ago. Said she’d be back, that she needed to “find herself” or something. I don’t know.”

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head, “Sounds like Shannon. She left suddenly too. Just woke up one morning, and she was gone to stay with her parents. Chris was only a few months old, so he doesn’t remember her at all.”

Buck winces, “That…sucks. I’m sorry.”

Eddie waves his hand dismissively, “We tried to work it out, too, like you and Ali, but it wasn’t working. We were supposed to meet for lunch, talk about her being in our lives again, and as soon as I sat down, she asked for a proper divorce. Two days later, she was hit by a car while crossing the street.”

“Oh, my god, Eddie…” Buck reaches across the table to rest his hand in what he hopes is a comforting gesture on Eddie’s forearm. “Is that why you moved?”

Eddie’s gaze flicks down to Buck’s hand, and suddenly Buck’s having second thoughts about his touch being welcomed. He goes to pull his hand back, only for Eddie to snag it in his own, squeezing tightly before placing it back on his arm.

He frowns, eyes finding Buck’s across the table, “I didn’t move for her. Or because of her. My parents tried to, essentially, take Christopher from me. Something about my inability to provide, or even really be present.”

“What?” Buck questions incredulously.

“They were scared I’d reenlist I think. We were staying with them at the time, so they were a constant in his life from the beginning.” Eddie shrugs, a small smile on his lips despite the subject, “A week later, I applied to the LAFD and moved.”

“And the rest is history?”

Eddie chuckles, light and happy, “I guess you could say that.” He sniffs, gesturing toward Buck, “Your turn. Why’d you move to the city of angels?”

Buck scratches at the back of his neck, hesitating for a moment because the story is frankly more embarrassing than he would like, and he would prefer not to let Eddie even see that side of him.

Sensing his hesitation, Eddie nods once, waving the waitress over for the check. Buck takes a moment to look around the nearly deserted diner. Only one other group remains, and Buck is almost seventy-eight percent positive they are drunk. A niggle of doubt forms in the back of Buck’s mind like maybe he’s messed up by not sharing like Eddie, but it soon dissipates when Eddie smiles and winks at him as the waitress makes her way over. The smile is one thing, but the wink? The wink almost kills him.

Before Sarah, the waitress Buck has finally looked at the name tag for, can even lay the check on the table, Eddie is snatching it up with a quickness that makes Buck blink confusedly for a moment.

“You really don’t have to pay. We can split it,” Buck tries, but he knows it won’t work even as he says it.

Eddie purses his lips, “I’ll get it this time, and maybe I’ll think about splitting next time.”

_Next time…fuck yes!_

Playing it cool, Buck bites his lip and nods like he isn’t doing cartwheels in his head. “Somehow I doubt next time will be any different.”

“Oh, a mystery. Something to look forward to then? Will I let you pay, or not?” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully, and Buck can’t stop the laugh that trickles out of him even if he tried.

After Eddie squares the bill and drains the rest of his water, they walk side by side outside where they both seem to pause for a few seconds, neither of them wanting the night to end yet. Buck checks his watch, noting it’s almost ten o’clock, and Max is likely in bed along with Maddie, so he is probably free to persuade Eddie into ice cream, or hell, maybe a nice make-out session in one of their cars because everyone and their mamas can see that Buck is dying to get his lips on Eddie’s.

Just as Buck turns to ask Eddie about the ice cream, Eddie tucks Buck’s hand in his, guiding them toward Buck’s jeep on the opposite end as Eddie’s truck. The sad pout crosses Buck’s face before he can stop it, and he works hard to smooth his features out before Eddie notices.

His hand feels warm tucked in Eddie’s, squeezing tightly like he thinks Buck might try to slip from his hold and run off, which is not going to happen. Eddie flexes his fingers against Buck’s, and he tugs him until his back is leaning against the driver’s side door.

Eddie doesn’t let go of Buck’s hand, but he does bring his other hand up to rest on the window beside Buck’s shoulder. His features are soft, attentive, flickering over Buck’s face, searching for…something. Longing? Disgust? Consent, maybe? He hopes he’s portraying all the right emotions.

“I’m going to kiss you now, Buck,” Eddie warns, leaning in slowly, _oh so slowly_ , until Buck finds himself leaning in to meet the man halfway.

As soon as his lips touch Eddie’s, soft and full, Buck turns into some kind of mewling kitten that can’t claw itself close enough to the other man. He wants to burrow under Eddie’s skin, lick and kiss and nibble at every part of him, and Eddie takes it in stride, taking control and dominating the kiss, practically forcing Buck to submit, to let Eddie give Buck what he needs and take in turn what he wants. It is an experience in its own, something Buck had yet to be a part of himself until now, and he wants so much more.

Trills of electricity race through his spine, and he pushes closer, arching his back until his chest brushes Eddie’s. He brings his arms up to sling around Eddie’s neck, holding him tightly. Eddie grips his hips, fingers digging tightly until Buck moans at the sensation, and Eddie pounces on the sound, his eyes turning predatory.

Eddie steps forward, pushing Buck into the car further, the door handle digging into his hip, and fumbling for Buck’s hands to uncoil them from around his neck until he has them pinned by his head. Buck moans again and again, loving the feeling of being manhandled, loving the feeling of being manhandled where everyone can see him giving in to Eddie.

It is thrilling and intoxicating. Like a drug to experiment with. Eddie’s touch grounds him and sends him soaring all at the same time. It’d heady and dizzying in the same breath it’s clearing and soothing. His kiss brings the fog and disperses it all at once.

“Buck,” Eddie groans as Buck thrust his hips against Eddie’s uncontrollably. “Buck… Evan, stop.”

Buck stops immediately at the gruffness in Eddie’s voice. He isn’t mad at him. He’s just as turned on and bothered as Buck, but if anyone has more sense at the moment, it is Eddie.

Both of the men try to catch their breath, and Buck lets his head fall forward onto Eddie’s shoulder while the man rubs and massages at his wrists where he’d been holding him firmly.

Eddie speaks first, “We should talk before we do anything physically.”

Buck’s head snaps up at the seriousness in his tone, and his eyes search for the regret he figures will be there. Fortunately, he only finds deep-rooted desire and longing staring back at him. Eddie wants him just as much as he wants Eddie, and that feeling is enough to make Buck nod understandingly.

“Okay. Christopher is staying with Abuela for the night. Would you like to come over?”

“Yes!” Buck clears his throat, “Yeah, sure. Can do.”

“Great. You can follow me.” With that Eddie drops a chaste kiss on Buck’s nose like he just can’t help himself before opening Buck’s door for him then jogging across the lot to his truck.

***

Buck isn’t quite sure what to expect when Eddie said they needed to talk before any hanky panky. His first thought had been maybe they needed to talk about whether or not this was a little bit of fun, or a real deal, honest to god relationship to which Buck would respond hell-fucking-yes to the relationship bit. His second thought was that maybe Eddie had a strange abnormality he felt he needed to disclose first, like a third nipple or an extra testicle, or maybe he had a tattoo of Shannon’s name on his lower back like a tramp stamp or like a dick piercing… He’s getting carried away. The whole point is that Buck isn’t sure what to expect, but he isn’t nervous.

Okay, he is nervous, but more of an excited nervous because he wants Eddie’s dick in his mouth so bad.

Unfortunately, Eddie is entirely serious about talking before they get to the good stuff, so there he is, sitting in the middle of Eddie’s leather couch while the other man sits in front of him on the coffee table. It’s an unsettling arrangement because it makes it seem like Buck will potentially need some comforting or something.

He expects to hear Eddie say, _“One of my nipples sits lower than the other, and I have a micro-penis.”_

He doesn’t expect Eddie to say, “I’d like to talk about our kinks openly and honestly before we begin a physical relationship.”

Buck barks out a laugh. He can’t help it. At Eddie’s serious face, he jolts back, a little startled because he’s never had a conversation like this before having sex, which is maybe not as normal as what he thought. “Wait…you’re serious?”

“Yes, Buck. I take it this is an unusual topic for you.”

“Well,” Buck swallows, eyes wide, “yeah, I guess… And I take it this is a normal topic for you?”

Eddie smiles softly, “I like to know what to expect of my partners, and I want to give the same courtesy. We could be completely incompatible sexually.”

Buck’s eyes widen with displeasure. That is the last thing he wants. To be out of sync in the bedroom, but also the thought of Eddie having _partners,_ plural, makes something dripping in green-jealous goop worm its way beneath Buck’s skin. He scoots himself to the edge of his cushion so he is practically on top of Eddie’s knees.

Eddie chuckles, and Buck blushes for what seems to be the hundredth time that night, smiling sheepishly. “I have some particular interests that can be unappealing to some people. Eventually I’d like us to go more in-depth because this should and will be an ongoing conversation, but for tonight, I’d like to just touch on the basics. Is that okay?”

Eddie is so earnest that it leaves Buck a little speechless and a whole lot anxious. All he can do is nod his head and hope he’s prepared for whatever completely normal (read: odd) things Eddie might be into. (What if he needs to, like, suck on toes in the missionary position to get off? Oh, no… Not that toes _or_ missionary is bad, but…)

Eddie has other plans though. He runs his thumb over Buck’s jaw before pulling back completely, keeping a good foot or more of distance between them, and Buck assumes it is for a reason, like he doesn’t want to crowd Buck, wants to give him space to think, and while that is reassuring, it is also unsettling.

He clears his throat, “I’d like to start with you. What’re some things you enjoy during sex? Anything you’d like from me, or to do to me?”

“Uh…” Buck flounders, eyes downcast as he tries and fails to form some kind of response.

“Remember to be honest. None of this works if we aren’t honest with each other.”

Buck swallows, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut as he stammers quietly, “I like, uh, to be the one, you know, being fucked.”

“So you like to bottom? That works out well since I like to top, but I’m versatile,” Eddie says, and even though he refuses to meet Eddie’s gaze, he can tell the man is amused, his usual playful self. Buck can even imagine a wink somewhere in there. Eddie continues after a moment, “What else?”

“I’m not really…” Buck winces. “I don’t know.”

Eddie sighs, not out of frustration though, “Okay, I’ll tell you a few things I’m into, and you can feel free to chime in at any time. That okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Eddie grins when Buck finally lifts his eyes. “Like I said, I can be pretty particular, but I’m adaptable. My main thing is control. I like to be in charge, calling the shots, dominating.”

Buck feels his cock twitch against the fabric of his pants. The thought of Eddie giving him orders in the bedroom—hell, life in general—makes Buck’s skin heat. The only image running through his head at that moment is Eddie commanding him to get on his knees and suck his cock, towering over him and getting off on Buck’s submission. Then on a stranger tone, the image morphed into Buck taking care of Eddie, feeding him and making sure he is well-loved.

Buck licks his lips, and Eddie tracks the movement. “So,” he begins, “that sounds—it kind of…you’re into BDSM?” He finally manages. “That’s what all this is, right? You’re a, um, Dom?”

Eddie inhales, “It’s a slippery slope, I think. Do I like a lot of elements of BDSM? Yes, but I have never had a submissive, or ventured into it too heavily. I just do what feels good for myself and my partner. I suppose for this we could say yes though to make it easier. I am into BDSM, and I’d likely be a Dom. Most of it for me is the need to be in control. It could be basic vanilla sex, but I want you to know who’s running the show.”

Buck nods like his internal sex goddess (yes, god _dess_ ) isn’t yawning and stretching herself awake at the words _control_ and _sex_. “Okay.”

Eddie’s lips twitch, “Does that interest you? Giving up control to me?”

“Yes,” Buck replies, blushing all the while.

Eddie slips a finger under Buck’s chin, his voice stern as he says, “Look at me.”

The effect is instantaneous. Buck’s head lifts, and his eyes find Eddie’s, a spark of fear running through his veins as Eddie’s eyes burn with desire. It’s clear to Buck from the way Eddie smiles slowly that he’s enjoying seeing Buck give in to him.

Strange and terrifying. That’s what this feels like. Sure, certain parts of Buck are _incredibly_ turned on in the moment, but the other part of him is fearful of the unknown, fearful of what he doesn’t understand. A selfish part of him is fearful of what would happen if he can’t give Eddie what he needs, if he can’t adapt and overcome to this kind of lifestyle. Buck has always been pretty vanilla in the sack. He is a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of guy, and as he is trying to recall any kinks of his to Eddie, he realizes he’s never really allowed himself to just want freely.

Eddie, completely oblivious to Buck’s internal struggle, carries on now that Buck is watching him. “Let’s think about it in this sense: when you have a sexual fantasy, what are some things you’re imagining? Either of yourself or your partner?”

Okay, Buck can definitely think more clearly this way. It is easier to pick out the things he likes in his fantasies than in the actual doing.

“Usually I’m being, uh, held down. And I’m on my stomach.”

Eddie’s nostrils flare. _He likes that. He wants to do that to Buck, dear lord._ “Good. What else?”

Feeling encouraged, Buck clears his throat, “I liked when you—at Athena’s when you, uh,” Buck stammers through, embarrassed at having to put into words his sexual desires, “when you put your hand…over my mouth.” And just for emphasis apparently, Buck raises three fingers in imitation to his lips just the way Eddie did that night. He is becoming curious as to what it would be like to feel Eddie’s rough hand over his mouth, muffling his cries of pleasure as he fucks into him from behind.

Buck releases a full body shiver.

Eddie runs a hand down Buck’s arm soothingly, “You’re doing so good, Buck.” Buck practically melts under his touch. “Keep going if you want to.”

“I think I’d like it…rough, I guess.”

The admission feels huge from Buck, and he sweeps his eyes to the floor for some reason. He isn’t embarrassed really. Lots of people like rough sex. It isn’t some strange, odd kink. It’s actually probably one of the most common. It feels huge because it feels like an acknowledgement that he wants to explore this side of his sexuality with Eddie, which he does. Most definitely. It’s still terrifying though.

Eddie hums appreciatively, and Buck lifts his gaze to see the man with his head thrown back to stare at the ceiling while he rubs his palm roughly over his impressive bulge. Buck stares with wide eyes as Eddie digs the heel of his palm into the fabric with a rough exhale, and he wants nothing more in this moment than to drop to his knees and please him.

Eddie nods, more to himself it seems, then meets Buck’s gaze intensely. His voice is rough, clearly turned on and restraining himself, “I would be irresponsible to take advantage of the sexual tension right now, so I’m not going to. I’m going to explain how our night is going to end, and you’ll tell me if you have any objections, okay?”

“Okay,” Buck murmurs, eyes wide as he scoots closer to Eddie, trying not to pout as the night nears its end. A pout that is totally unjustified considering Eddie has just dropped a flaming sack of dog poop on his metaphorical front porch and ran away. (Okay, he didn’t run away. He’s actually kind of perfect. What the fuck.) He agrees that he needs to take a step back, several steps back, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Eddie lays a heavy hand on Buck’s knee, squeezing gently, reassuringly. “I’ve given you a lot to think about. Not only do you need to consider my kinks and if you could handle them, but also your own since it doesn’t seem like you have before. I’m going to walk you outside to your car, and I’m going to push you against the door again then I’m going to kiss you goodbye. That’s all.”

Buck can’t stop the (sexually) frustrated humph. Thankfully Eddie only flashes him a smirk.

“I want you to go home and research, research, research. Learn as much as you can, and message me if you have any questions. Seriously. Any questions, okay?”

“Message you if I have questions about your kinky kingdom, got it.”

Eddie narrows his eyes, “Feisty. That would usually get you in trouble.”

Well, _okay then_. Buck inhales swiftly against the burst of nerves in his chest.

“After you’ve done enough research to feel comfortable,” Eddie continues, giving Buck’s knee another squeeze, “I want you to let me know, so I can ask you on another date. We’ll have dinner here, and talk as much as you want.”

“Is this turning you on right now?” Buck asks, lust making him temporarily bold. “Telling me what to do?”

A bark of laughter explodes out of Eddie, and he smiles wildly at Buck, like that is the last thing he expected him to say, until Buck is smiling back, the other man’s mood infectious and calming. Eddie scratches at his brow, “A little. I don’t want to lie.”

 _I kind of like it,_ Buck wants to say. _I kind of wish you’d keep going,_ Buck tries.

Instead he says, “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“We’ll tick that in the progress column,” Eddie says with a wink that shoots straight through Buck, rendering him completely paralyzed for several seconds. “Come on. It’s getting late. I’m sure Max is dying to see you.”

Nothing deflates a poorly timed erection like someone mentioning your kids.

Eddie stands, holding his hand out for Buck like some kind of gentleman from the 50’s except with less homophobia and overall prudishness. Buck slips his hand into Eddie’s and lets himself be tugged up until they are practically nose to nose in the small space between the couch and coffee table. Being this close, Buck can see the little freckle right under Eddie’s eye, and the way they aren’t just brown. No, they are like honey and smooth whiskey swirled together. It’s beautiful.

Eddie is alluring, fascinatingly charming, and an enigma all rolled into one. There is a cockiness to him that should be arrogant, would be arrogant, if he didn’t come attached with his quiet personality. There’s balance and a thoughtfulness there that he’s mastered over the years, and it’s appealing. None of him is off-putting.

Of course, Buck could be jumping the gun because what if Eddie is messy or…or lazy? Fortunately that just doesn’t seem to fit with the Eddie he’s been getting to know.

Eddie brushes his nose over Buck’s temple, burying it in his hair and inhaling. He is smelling Buck, and it’s weird. It is strange, he can admit, but it is also the kind of strange that is also nice and reassuring.

“Come on,” Eddie finally says, pulling away from his resting spot to lead Buck toward the front door, and suddenly, with the knowledge he’s learned tonight, everything has a deeper meaning. All of the little quirks he’s seen of Eddie the past week just seems to lead back to the fact that Eddie is never really _off._ That need to control is always on even outside of the bedroom.

Nonetheless, Buck lets the man intertwine their fingers together, walking slightly ahead of him. Once they’re outside, Eddie does exactly as he had said, pushing Buck against the door of his Jeep, both of his hands settling hotly on his hips.

Buck licks his lips, thrilled when Eddie tracks the motion with his eyes, and he flexes his fingers a few times before deciding to _stop being a fucking coward_ and place them around his waist, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt. He flexes his fingers again, enjoying the way the fabric bunches in his grip before straightening back over his smooth skin. It’s a simple point of contact, but it’s almost overwhelming in sensation.

Eddie squeezes his hips then cups his face gently and angling it up before placing a soft kiss on his lips. Light, chaste, and incredibly heady. He wants more. More gentle kissing, more light touches, more Eddie Diaz.

When Eddie dips his head to place another chaste kiss on Buck’s eager mouth, Buck can’t help the whine that bubbles up his throat when he pulls away again.

Eddie arches a brow, a cheeky smile on his face, “Oh, I like that.”

“Whatever,” Buck mumbles, face turning a nice shade of red—which should just be his permanent freaking skin tone at this point. “Just—wasn’t there a whole five-step plan going on here?”

“Tell me what you want, Evan.” The request is spoken softly, sultry and, if Buck were wearing them, panty-dropping, while managing to also sound like a command, fierce and non-negotiable.

Buck bites his lip, wincing slightly at how raw he’s chewed it. “I want you to…kiss me.”

His answering grin is beautiful and pleased, making Buck preen inwardly like he’s done a good job, and he gives Buck exactly what he asked for.

***

Buck could write a book of things he never thought he’d say out loud, or things he never thought he’d be discussing with a four year old. Four years ago, if you’d told him he’d be sitting on his kitchen floor trying and failing to braid his daughters hair before giving up and making a ponytail, he wouldn’t have believed you. He definitely wouldn’t have believed you if you’d told him that in addition to hairstyling, he was also trying to calm the lunatic sitting cross-legged in front of him as she cried because “the dryer ate my tutu, Daddy! He needs a time-out, or…or a spankin’!”

Four years ago, he was thrust into this parenting shit with only the clothes on his back and shit parents himself to draw advice from. Maddie had been long gone, and Buck was only worried about working his dream job and finding a warm body to shack up with at night. He wasn’t the most upstanding guy ever hence why his daughter was born from a friends-with-benefits relationship that went nowhere fast.

But… four years later, he feels purpose for the first time in his life, and he has Max to thank for that. She brings a certain amount of hardship and poorly timed comedic failures, but she also shows him what it is like to care about someone other than himself, to give and give and give and not want anything in return. It was a wake up call to find himself a carefree bachelor one day and the next a single dad. One he can’t bring himself to regret. Truthfully, he would give his poor dryer a million spankings and time-outs if it meant he would always be here, sitting on his kitchen floor with Max between his outstretched legs.

“I’ll get you a new one, Max, but I really think I can fix this one,” Buck tries, fingering the rip in the fabric his daughter is clutching in her lap.

Max whines, “I don’t wanna new one! This is the only one! _And_ the stupid dryer ate it!”

“Hey, we can be upset, but we still don’t say ugly words.” Buck scolds her. At her answering humph, he sighs. “I’ll get it taken care of. When have I ever let you down, Maxie?”

She huffs, clearly not wanting to participate in the required sappy father-daughter moment that is so clearly supposed to happen here according to every movie _ever_. “I wish you could braid. Mommy could braid… Mermaids should have braids.”

Ouch. “I’m trying, kid. Cut me some slack.” Buck runs his fingers through the ponytail, letting the soft, honey blonde strands slip through and fall unceremoniously down to her neck. There are a few soft curls that Buck loves and wishes she will always have even if it’s just a reminder that she gets that little detail from her daddy.

After a few minutes, Max begins to get restless, squirming and twitching to let him know that she is no longer happy and content to just sit there while he struggles through a simple french braid. It feels wrong to leave things like this with a four year old. She doesn’t understand enough to even realize she’s said anything upsetting, but the need to clarify that mommy hadn’t stuck around long enough for Max to know if she could braid or not is perched right on the tip of his tongue. It is selfish of him, totally put him in the bad parenting category for even entertaining the thought, but it grates at something that Ali did this to them, to Max, to him. That she left a colorful girl behind and a man with a martyr complex the size of Texas that would’ve done anything to give both of them a good life.

Buck clears his throat after a minute, emotion clogging his throat, “Go. Get dressed. No tutu today, so I can get it fixed.” As Max jumps up to sprint towards the stairs, he narrows his eyes, knowing his daughter well enough to shout, “No poofy dresses either!”

He hears a long, drawn-out groan sound from somewhere upstairs, and he smiles to himself before hauling his big body off the floor and to the kitchen counter where his phone is vibrating incessantly against the fruit bowl.

He slaps it to his ear in a hurry, noting the time and how far off schedule the two of them have managed to get this morning due to tutu-gate. “‘Lo?”

“Buck! I’m glad I caught you!” Maddie practically breathes into the phone.

Buck scrunches his nose, “Were you running? Why are you so out of breath?”

“Stress. And panic… Listen! I think when I transferred the laundry last night before I left, I forgot to pull Max’s tutu out.”

Buck chuckles, throwing a baggy of baby carrots into Max’s lunch box and zipping it shut, “Yeah, I know. She’s distraught and acting like the tutu is personified. Like it died or something.”

Maddie gasps, “Oh, no! Did the stupid dryer eat it?”

“So you’re the reason she’s been speaking so colorfully about the dryer this morning?” Buck tsks at his sister. “It has a rip, though. I think I can fix it.”

Maddie hums, “I’ll do it! It’s my fault anyways. You should get a new one anyways though. Probably a few actually considering how often she wants to wear it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, do you think you could teach me how to braid?”

***

After Buck’s hectic morning, he hasn’t really had much time to think about Eddie and everything that he really needs to _think_ about when it comes to Eddie, so needless to say he is now almost hyperventilating at the prospect of seeing the man while dropping their kids off. Max doesn’t seem to notice or care since she is in her car seat pouting about her lack of poof. (Heaven forbid she wears the pair of jeans with the rhinestones on the pockets that she begged Buck for.)

“Are we ever gonna get out?” Max asks, her voice monotone and annoyed at the same time.

Buck sniffs, nodding his head a few times, “Yup. Right now.”

So what they’d made out against this very jeep like teenagers until Buck had to race home, so he could take care of his very hard _package_. So what it was probably the best kiss Buck has ever had _ever_. So what if the man Buck is pretty sure fate herself has brought to him is into some kinky sex stuff that he totally wants to explore with Buck—aka the least kinky guy out there.

So. What.

Buck is an adult, a parent for god’s sake. He can handle seeing the man of his dreams again without blowing over like a love struck dandelion. He can handle a little awkwardness, a little morning-after strangeness. Because it is strange in the sense that Buck is ready to get downright serious with this man even with his kinky sex. Maybe he is even feeling a little more inclined to keep him after the reveal.

Max and Buck walk hand in hand like they do every morning, and sure enough, there they are, Eddie and little Christopher, slowly walking up the ramp to the double doors in front of them. Max is looking up at Buck, talking about some bunny that Miss Andrews has that she wishes she’d let the kids take home, but apparently Miss Andrews thinks it is too much “ _err-pons-ililty”_ for the four year olds. (She would be correct.)

Buck knows the exact moment she spies the Diaz boys because she lets out an inhuman shriek that makes every parent and child within a mile of them turn their heads in annoyance, and Buck smiles apologetically as she pulls him along.

“Christopher! Mr. Eddie!” Max bounds up to them, hugging Christopher tightly before shooting Eddie—Mr. Eddie, how cute—a shy grin. “Good morning.”

Eddie winks at her, “Good morning, Miss Buckley.” At her giggling, he turns to Buck, his smile softer and satisfied, “Good morning, Buck.”

 _Swoon._ “‘Morning.”

Max doesn’t let the half a second of awkwardness Buck feels deter her from launching straight into her dramatic retelling of how the “ _stup—I mean dumb dryer_ ” (which isn’t exactly the revision he was hoping for but…) ate her tutu, and Buck barely manages to suppress the frustrated groan from leaving his mouth. Much to Eddie’s pleasure, Buck doesn’t manage to suppress the eye roll or the huff though…

They walk the kids to their classroom side-by-side, signing them in together and bidding them goodbye at the same time. It isn’t as awkward as Buck had thought it would be. Sure, there are a few moments of silence, but it is comfortable for the most part. When they exit the building, Eddie grabs his wrist, his fingers curling around the fabric of his long sleeve and barely brushing against the little exposed skin there. He doesn’t let his hand linger though. As soon as he has Buck’s attention, he motions for him to follow him towards his truck, which is on the opposite side of the lot from Buck’s jeep.

“I got something for you,” Eddie says by way of explanation, and Buck’s pulse skyrockets as Eddie unlocks the truck and leans over the console, perfect ass sticking out and taunting Buck to just touch it, just once, you know, for the goodness of his health…

“Oh…” Buck breaths when Eddie is back on solid ground, shoving a travel cup of coffee and a bag at him from the good coffee shop a few streets from the station. “You got me coffee…and a donut.”

Eddie grins and shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Chris and I go by every morning. It’s part of our routine… I just thought you might like it.”

“I love it. Thank you,” he says quickly, a sheepish grin on his face and half wondering if it would be too much to kiss him right here in the middle of the elementary school parking lot.

Before he can think about it too heavily, Eddie leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to his mouth, and Buck feels giddy. Giddy and goofy and unable to stop the stupid, dumb, wide smile that overtakes his face. Eddie seems to like it though, laughing at the way Buck is trying to hide it in his shoulder.

Buck bites at the inside of his cheek in hopes of stifling some of his too-wide grin—it doesn’t work—and takes a step back, “I should go. So I’m not late… Thank you. Again. I will text you. Later.”

“Please do,” Eddie lays a hand on his door handle, leaning there like some freakin GQ model.

“Okay, here I go.” Buck says, “Leaving now… _Oh, my god_ , why are you like this, Evan Buckley? Just walk away. Stop talking to yourself, dear god. Oh, hi, Mr. Jenkins. Yes, it is a good morning. See you later.”

Buck slams his door closed and smacks his head against the steering wheel before getting a grip. He sips his coffee—delicious and sweet—and takes a bite of the donut—also delicious and chocolatey—before grinning like a fool again and driving toward the station.

***

“Hey,” Buck starts, walking in front of where Monty is jogging on her treadmill. He waits until she pulls her headphones out before continuing. “I need some non-judgmental help from a non-judgmental friend.”

Monty narrows her eyes, suspicion seeping into her stare, “And you came to me?”

“You’re right. This is stupid.” Buck begins to walk away, shamed.

“Woah there, Buckley. Tell Auntie Monty all your troubles.”

“Please, never refer to yourself as ‘Auntie Monty’ again. Never.”

“Okay, okay. Just get to talking.”

Buck inhales, “I’ve been propositioned, and I’d like—”

“—like prostitution?”

“—some…wait, what? No? Let me finish. Anyways, I was propositioned by a _man_ , not a prostitute, about engaging in a,” he looks around before whispering, “ _sexual_ relationship that is not so vanilla in nature.”

Monty stares at the floor for a few moments in confusion then meets his gaze. “I’m not seeing the problem. You don’t like sex?”

“Monty!” Buck pulls her aside. “I’ve never done…you know, non-vanilla _things_ in the bedroom.”

“Wait, is this like just a few kinky things, or are you trying to hint something bigger here with just your eyebrows?”

“BDSM. I am referring to BDSM,” he blurts, exasperated.

“Oh, why didn’t you say so. I think everyone should try new things once. How will you know if you like it if you don’t try?”

Buck groans, frustrated that she isn’t reading his mind, “I want—I’m probably going to… I just don’t know anything. At all. About _it.”_

Monty smacks at his chest, grinning, “Research, my dude. Google the shit out of it then google some more. _Then_ ask this guy—wait…are you talking about who I think you’re talking about?”

“Stop.” Buck walks away with a mischievous grin, very clearly unwilling to open that can of worms with her. “I have everything under control now.”

“But! Buck! Don’t walk away from me now! It was just getting juicy!”


	3. fever dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from fever dream — mxmtoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY, imagine this: you’re laying on a nice, brown leather couch, telling me all about your day when suddenly you remember how that one trash author you occasionally read on AO3 said she’d update on tuesday, but when you check, she didn’t. You obviously think “wow what a lying piece of gorbagé” and you know what? You’re right. So, anyways, you’re laying on this nice, comfy couch, and now your being hypnotized, so when the therapist lady —me— says sweet alfalfa milk, you forget that one weird author lady ever said anything about tuesdays, okay? Great... 
> 
> sweet alfalfa milk
> 
> Glad we cleared that up.
> 
> Please enjoy this perfectly on time update that I hope you love, but I’m also not going to hold it against you if you don’t.
> 
> Thank you to donut247hey who is the fuckin best ever AS WELL AS Theholyfandoms because she’s also the fuckin best, and I just really adore both of them and their help on this fic.
> 
> If after this absolute bullshit AN you still want to follow me on tumblr and interact with me, I’d love to have you all up in my inbox bby.  
> http://fernnette.tumblr.com/

Buck is settled on his bed, propped up against the headboard with his pillows, with a bottle of water and a bag of pretzels after making sure for the fourth time in thirty minutes that Max is really asleep and not faking it. The last thing he needs while researching BDSM and all it entails is his four year old bouncing in and asking about the naked people on his screen. (He is under no illusion that there won’t be naked people.)

Fortunately she fell asleep almost immediately, and Buck takes that as another sign from fate herself—another one, actually—that Buck and Eddie are meant to be because Max always needs exactly fifteen minutes of cuddling, a glass of water, and three kisses. Buck has never been able to worm his way out of it except for tonight when she decides to just close her eyes like that’s what she always does.

So Buck stands in his kitchen with his hands on his hips for a few minutes before checking in on her. Then he goes to the bathroom, brushes his teeth, washes his face, and changes into sweats before checking in on her again. After that he gathers his water bottle and fills it, humming some popular song he heard on the radio as he waits then grabs the entire bag of pretzels and jotting it on the shopping list quickly, so he won’t forget to replace the things, and he won’t have to hear Max throw a fit about not having them. (Been there, done that.) When he dumps his goodies on his bed, he pokes his head into her room once more before huffing and scooting back to his room where he proceeds to lock the door, checking it twice, and pulling his laptop out, fiddling with the perfect setup for a few minutes before declaring everything good to go.

Which is when he thinks it probably wouldn’t hurt to check on Max one more time. (She is still conked, by the way.)

“Okay, Evan.” He gets comfortable, sinking back like he is the pinnacle of relaxation. “Just…research. Type in: B-D-S-M. Simple. Go.”

The first few search results make him wary. How trustworthy can Wikipedia or Cosmopolitan really be? It reminds him of when he was in high school, and the teachers always told him not to site Wikipedia as a source since anyone could add to it. Is that the same for searching things like this? Like BDSM and kinks?

He clicks on it anyways.

“ _BDSM is a variety of often erotic practices or roleplaying involving bondage, discipline, dominance and submission, sadomasochism, and other related interpersonal dynamics.”_

The first words that jump out at him are obviously dominance and submission. He’s feeling positive about that aspect of the whole proposition, which is good, right? Bondage seems okay as well though he hasn’t really dabbled in it much. Or at all. But the idea, imagining it with Eddie, feels…nice. More than nice. He keeps scrolling through the page, eyes widening the further down he goes.

“ _BDSM actions can often take place during a specific period of time agreed to by both parties, referred to as "play", a "scene", or a "session". Participants usually derive pleasure from this, even though many of the practices — such as inflicting pain or humiliation or being restrained — would be unpleasant under other circumstances.”_

Humiliation? Buck isn’t so uneducated that he doesn’t understand the pain part. That is the part he understands actually. Most bad things you hear about BDSM are usually revolving around some pain kink. (He unfortunately watched Fifty Shades of Grey as well, but he’s not quite sure if that’s reliable either.) People don’t understand what they don’t understand. It sounds confusing, but if you don’t like to feel pain, if that doesn’t give you some kind of sexual gratification, you probably would be pretty close minded about it. Doesn’t make it right, but it happens. Kink shaming… it’s a real thing.

Different strokes for different folks, as they say.

But humiliation? Buck hasn’t heard of that one, so he pulls up a separate tab to type in: _humiliation kink._ He skips the Wikipedia article this time, choosing to scroll until he finds a question and answer post.

_“…like to be humiliated, embarrassed, degraded or insulted during sex…”_

He exits the site quickly when a naked picture of a man pops up, holding a woman’s purse in his mouth in front of a crowd. Nope. Not for him.

Different strokes and all that.

He moves back to the broader BDSM search, clicking out of Wikipedia and scrolling further down. He finds one that points out the differences between “real” BDSM and that with which you read in Fifty Shades of Grey—see? Not reliable. ( _“It isn’t always sexual.” “There is nothing wrong or damaged with the people who are into it.” “It’s not always whips and chains.”_ Buck let out a quiet _thank fuck_ for that. “ _Safe words are a thing.” “It’s not as spontaneous as Hollywood makes it out to be.” “So much talking…pre-negotiations…and most importantly, aftercare.”_ ) Buck kind of feels like his brain is melting by the end of that article.

Then Buck comes across a _sexy guide for beginners_ that has just enough fancy lettering and elegant pictures that he clicks on it. ( _G is for golden showers? U is for urination? Who wrote this? Do they like these things?_ )

After another hour of scrolling and burning his eyes out of his skull, he feels a little more educated than before, but the real question is of what he learned what is actually truthful? Can he trust the internet? He did find a helpful little BDSM checklist where he can go through and fill it out to give his partner. He thinks that might be a good idea since he is struggling to get past the fact that he turns into a blushing virgin around Eddie, so he prints the document then pulls up his message app.

**To:** Eddie Diaz

**From:** Evan Buckley

_You don’t want to pee on me, right?_

**To:** Evan Buckley

**From:** Eddie Diaz

_I was wondering when I’d hear from you. How’s the research coming? Any questions?_

Buck immediately calls Eddie.

“Hello?”

“You didn’t answer the first question I asked.” Buck replies in lieu of a greeting. “Do you want to pee on me?”

Eddie sighs, amused, “No. Urine and blood play are hard limits for me.”

Buck swallows, nodding as he looks down at the checklist he just printed, “Hard limit…that’s something you won’t do, like completely off the table.”

“Exactly. Someone’s doing their homework.”

Buck, suddenly not feeling as desperate and bold as he was minutes ago, clears his throat. “Well, that’s all, really. I’ll leave you to…whatever you were doing. Bye.”

And he hangs up.

This is going well. Buck is a well-adjusted individual.

***

The next night, Buck finds himself in the same researching position yet again, ready to fill in the negotiation sheet. It is extensive to say the least, and Buck is kind of grateful for it. It doesn’t leave anything for him to puzzle through. It’s all just laid out for him. There are twelve sections total, and Buck is going to go through every damn one of them and leave notes and all kinds of stuff. Maybe he’ll even doodle a penis at the top.

The grading system is on a scale of 0-5. Zero means it is a hard limit. One means it is a soft limit. Two means may try it for my partner. Three means willing to try. Four means you like it. Five means you love it. There is another section regarding experience, and well…there isn’t much of that going on now is there.

The first section is bondage. That is a pretty easy section considering he is pretty sure he’s into all of it. He leaves a few with one or twos, but he doesn’t count anything completely out yet. (Except for mummification. That just sounds like a hard no thank you to him.)

Sections two, three, and four are impact play, sexual activity, and sensation play. There are more threes throughout those three sections than he originally thought there would be. The more he imagines doing these things with Eddie the more willing he is to complete this sheet, so they can finally go play. (There are a few zeros in the impact play section, but Buck isn’t sure he’ll ever be ready to be caned or slapped in the face. He also crosses out tickling and electricity as hard limits because nothing makes him more flaccid than thinking about laughing himself till he pees, or the potential to be electrocuted.)

Next is breath play, which Buck figures he’d give a small, small chance to, and body part torture—torture?—which is mainly about nipples—again, he has question about why it’s only about nipples—so he isn’t sure about it. (He marks twos for that stuff.)

After that is the humiliation section, and he feels himself blush just reading it. He’d searched more before he started filling the kink sheet out, and he found some other examples of humiliation that don’t make him want to run and scream in fear. Most of it is name-calling. Things like “ _you’re such a slut for me”_ and Buck doesn’t exactly hate it, so he leaves that one with a two and a half. (Yes. Half. He’s making his own grading scale now.)

Fetishes and role playing are great sections to be honest. Buck enjoys searching most of the terms and really grasping what they are and their meaning. He feels a little cliché when his dick twitches at the thought of him and Eddie role playing sexy doctors, or cop and criminal. It is especially shameful when he gets to the box for panties and hesitates. He’d never worn panties in his life, ever, but he stops, and even searches men in panties, before continuing. (He bites the bullet and puts a three in that one.)

The last three sections are serving behavior, voyeurism and exhibitionism, and bodily fluids. Buck puts all zeros in bodily fluids except for cum. For cum, he quickly writes a sloppy five. He’s never considered himself much of an exhibitionist, but the thought doesn’t completely turn him off, so he puts a few twos, a few ones, one surprising five. The serving part is easy to be honest. Most of it is things like kneeling, following orders, begging…all things he can get behind surprisingly. (He does put a zero on bathroom restrictions though. When he needs to go, he needs to go, okay?)

After he finishes, he stares at the packet for a moment. It feels monumental that he’s just filled out a kinky sex list that he will be giving to another kinky sex guy to look over. Will Eddie give him one as well? That would be nice information to have, like his own little Eddie Diaz brochure. It would say “ _come explore this island, to the left we have whips and to the right we have chains… do they excite you?_ ” and Buck would have to turn tail at the sight of him because yes, they do excite him.

He pulls his phone out after another moment and types a message to Eddie.

**To:** Eddie Diaz

**From:** Evan Buckley

_I think I’m ready_

**To:** Evan Buckley

**From:** Eddie Diaz

_Let’s have dinner then. Sunday. My house. 6pm._

***

“Are you sure about this?”

Monty arches a brow at him, moving Max to stand behind her like Buck might snatch her away. “Buck, if you ask me that one more time, you’ll never get her back.”

Max gasps, wide eyed and terrified at the thought, and Buck scowls. “Please, stop scaring my daughter.” He squats in front of Max, “I’ll be back later, okay? Just getting dinner with a friend.”

“You’ll give me lovins’ when you get back even though I’ll be asleep, right?”

“Of course.” He kisses her cheek then touches two fingers to her chin like he always does. She returns the gesture with a crooked grin, and Buck stands, leveling Monty with a glare.

Monty rolls her eyes, “You know everything will be okay. If you were this worried, why didn’t you ask Maddie?”

“She had plans.”

Monty shrugs and announces theatrically to Max, “Then ‘twas fate that led us here!”

_Fate. Buck can’t escape it._

“Okay, I’m leaving now.” Buck grabs his keys and wallet, shoving both into his back pocket before shaking his head and extracting his keys. “I left money on the counter for pizza. She only eats pepperoni. Extra. She’ll know if it’s regular or not, trust me. There’s these little fruit pouch things in the—”

Monty groans, “Buck! Oh, my god, just go. I got this. Right, Maxie?”

“I thought only daddy could call me Maxie.”

Monty forces a thin smile, “See? It’ll be fine. Go enjoy yourself. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Buck scowls again, “I have a feeling there’s not a lot you wouldn’t do.”

“Exactly my point, Buckaroo.”

Then she shuts the door in his face.

***

There’s something to be said for patience. There’s also something to be said for the fact that Buck only discovers during his date with Eddie that he doesn’t really have a high threshold for it. One would think he’d have all kinds of patience considering he is a police officer and a single parent. The latter alone has a requirement for at least fifty percent patience at all times.

Unfortunately Buck doesn’t get the memo that he will need all of the patience he can muster for this date.

It starts off great. He stands outside Eddie’s door on his front porch like an awkward bump on a log while he tries and fails to make some semblance of small talk with the man before Eddie eventually takes pity on him and invites him into the house. Buck isn’t sure what exactly makes him so tingly and flustered around Eddie. It could’ve been his laid-back, easy-going nature, his quiet confidence, his gentleness when dealing with Buck’s overall messiness… It could’ve also been the fact that he looks like a gorgeous piece of man meat in his tight jeans and dark Henley with his feet bare. Simple yet effective. (Meaning Buck’s dick totally jumps at the sight of him…)

Dinner is great as well. Better than Buck expects. He’s an easy guy. Pizza and beer are the way to his heart even when he should expect more. He’s never really had a date try harder than that for him. Well, actually more often than not he is the one planning the evening, or cooking and making sure everything is perfect. It’s nice, something like a fantasy of his, to walk into Eddie’s home and smell delicious food and sweet desserts waiting for him.

Buck is ready to have their little chat immediately. He walks in rearing and ready to fucking go. His nerves are weighing him down, and he itches to fling his packet of papers out in Eddie’s face so they can skip to the part of the night that Buck is sure he’ll be a squirming, awkward mess for.

Eddie has other plans though. As soon as they are sitting at the table, hefty portions of creamy spinach and salmon pasta and garlic bread on their plates, Eddie asks him how his day was, a genuine curiosity on his face that Buck can’t ignore.

Buck replies softly with a run down of their easy day. He slowly loosened over the course of speaking, beginning to animatedly describe Monty, Mitch, and Ames as they sparred together in the training room. He laughs heartily when he recalls just how Monty beat her chest like King Kong after Mitch and Ames both tapped out then her grumbling and pouting after Athena took her down in minutes. Buck dubs it a series of unfortunate events for literally only Monty.

Then he asks Eddie about his day, livelier and more brazen than usual after stuffing his mouth with yummy food and enough water to sustain him for a week.

Eddie’s day had been similar to Buck’s in the sense that it was a slow day, but mainly because he didn’t have to work. He recounts the grocery shopping and work out he did before noon. He even tells Buck his embarrassing story of the day where he’d taken a nap, slept through his alarm, and woke up in a rush to pick Christopher up from school only to get three steps out the front door before his neighbor, Mrs. Williams, catcalled him for his lack of pants. (Buck laughs, but he also twitched with a little twinge of jealousy burning in him for the sole fact that Mrs. Williams has seen Eddie Diaz in his boxer briefs, and he hasn’t. Such a tragedy.)

They discuss the matching artwork Max and Christopher both brought home that day, and the little differences their kids made to the sheets. (Max’s worksheet has a poorly drawn mermaid—it looks more like a rat with long hair and a wide tail—in the _what do you want to be_ section while Christopher’s features a dog, which Eddie swears is an attempt to talk him into adopting a puppy again.)

By the time they have finished cleaning up the kitchen together, Buck is finishing his third glass of water, and Eddie is piling a plate with chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies to take into the living room with them. Buck fills two glasses with milk, setting them on the coffee table beside the plate, then plops onto the couch beside Eddie, folding his leg under him so his knee barely touches Eddie’s thigh.

“Are you ready to talk now?” Buck asks, looking down as he swallows the cookie in his mouth and licking the crumbs from his lips.

Eddie leans back against the couch. “There’s no reason to be nervous. I want to talk openly, but only if you’re ready.”

Buck nods and wipes his clammy hands on his jeans, meeting Eddie’s gaze. “Is that why you wanted to eat and talk first?”

“I guess you could say I had a plan,” Eddie chuckles.

“I guess you could say I had one too,” Buck replies, determined as he stands and roots in the inside coat pocket for the papers he needs.

He steels himself, squaring his shoulders as he turns abruptly and promptly flings the list all over the living room. His eyes widen in shock, and Eddie begins collecting the fallen sheets before Buck can even come back to reality.

“Shit, shit, shit. That was _way_ more smooth in my head,” he mumbles.

Eddie’s chuckle trails off as he examines the sheets in his hands. After a moment of staring, eyes moving back and forth, brow furrowing, he finally glances at Buck. “Is this…? Did you fill out a kink list?”

Buck’s cheeks heat, and he works faster to gather the remaining pages. “ _Yes…_ ” He pauses at Eddie’s stunned expression. “Oh, no. Did I mess up? We can forget I ever did—”

“Buck,” Eddie silences him with a hand on his. “This is…more than I expected.”

Buck nods slowly because _clearly_. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Good. Definitely good.”

Buck smiles then, small and practically preening under the notion that he’s done something so good that Eddie is shocked with it. Something that feels very close to giddiness bubbles to the surface, face flushing and biting his cheek to stop the smile threatening to split his face.

Eddie smirks as they settle back onto the couch beside each other. Eddie begins thumbing through the pages in front of him, just skimming through like the silence isn’t slowly killing Buck where he sits. Buck squirms in his seat, suddenly feeling the shit ton of water he drank over the course of the evening. When he reaches the last page, shuffling the last three around back in order, he glances up at Buck again.

And suddenly Buck’s palms are sweating, clammy and damp as he wipes them on his jeans roughly. There’s a moment when Buck thinks about walking away. Thinks about calling it because this is just so…different. It’s outside of his comfort zone, and he doesn’t like that. He’s never wanted outside of his perfectly arranged box. Hell, the box makes him feel safe even if he isn’t. Not really.

When Eddie opens his mouth, Buck interrupts him before he can even get a word out. “I need to use the bathroom.”

He stands quickly, striding to the bathroom, where he shuts the door softly and rests his head on the wood for a moment before doing his business. He really does need to pee, but how embarrassing to just announce it like that? He slaps at his mouth, thinking _stupid no brain-to-mouth filter!_ He zips himself back up, eyes connecting with his reflection in the mirror as he washes his hands, and he glares at himself.

He leans against the sink, hands clenching the edge painfully tight as he tries not to think about the last time he let himself get too comfortable. Then again, he’s never felt like this with anyone else, and maybe that’s why it’s so hard to just let it happen. It feels like he’s at war with himself. There’s the one side of him that’s cussing and stomping because he wants Eddie, and every moment he’s hiding out in the bathroom is a chunk of time that he’s not with the man. Then the other part of him, the part that he’d like to call the sane, rational part, is reminding him of his last relationship. The relationship that caused him to move to a whole new state.

Honestly, Buck isn’t traumatized from the situation with Pete. He doesn’t have some deep-rooted fear that suddenly every man is going to be creepy and _weird_. His therapist actually told him that he’s doing great. That meeting new people and interacting with different folks would be good for him.

Eddie is as different from Pete as they come. He’s like a peanut butter ball or something. His exterior is a little tough, a little crunchy in the best kind of way, but his insides are soft and gooey and delicious… The metaphor is getting away from him. The point is that Buck has never believed in fate or destiny. He never believed in it until Eddie Diaz shook his hand, firm and grinning like a genuinely happy person, that morning at the school, and now his brain won’t stop wanting him, craving him, needing him. He was so anxious yesterday to see him and have dinner that he could barely sleep.

It feels a lot like he’s standing in front of two buttons. One button brings him immense happiness and warmth and a _goddamn soulmate._ The other button has spikes coming off of it and will only bring him loneliness and regret, yet he’s still hesitating. The choice should be incredibly easy and obvious. All he has to do is choose it, push the fucking button, and live a life full of rainbows and candy corn.

Buck straightens, smoothing his shirt down, and taking a deep breath; because, he is choosing to be happy. He’s choosing a life without regrets and loneliness. A life that’s worth living. Evan Buckley doesn’t hide in the corner, cowering. Like Baby, nobody puts him in the corner, dammit.

With renewed vigor, he slings the bathroom door open, and the knob smacks against the wall harshly. Buck’s eyes widen as he examines the wall for a dent. Luckily there isn’t any kind of marking, but now his entrance feels tainted. He squares his shoulders again, inhaling deeply.

When he walks back into the living room, Eddie is in the same spot, reading through the packet Buck practically threw at him like it’s his new favorite book. His eyes are flitting over the pages wildly, and one corner of his mouth is upturned, lips forming a smile as he reads more and more.

“I’ll print one of these off for you to look over, too. I think this was a really smart idea, Buck.” He says before Buck can get his mouth to work.

“Really? I—yeah, okay,” Buck says quietly with a stifled grin, sitting as gracefully as possible onto the couch beside him again, trying to position himself just right so his knee is touching Eddie’s thigh again. (He succeeds.)

His intention had been to avoid talking about it out loud, you know, with words from his own mouth if he is honest, but this is good, too. He finds himself extremely intrigued at the possibility of having his own little packet of Eddie’s Kinks (trademark pending).

“First thing,” Eddie starts, “we should discuss the basics. By basics I mean the fact that if this isn’t for you, if you’re just forcing yourself, you should stop. We don’t have to do this to be in a relationship. I like you a lot, Buck, and we can figure it out.”

Oh, well, okay then. Buck shakes his head, frowning, “I’m not… _forcing_ myself to like it. It was actually surprising how much I did. Like it.”

Eddie grins affectionately, “Good. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Do you want to just start with the first section?”

“Sure. Sounds good—like a plan.”

Another grin. “Okay, bondage. You’re willing to try most of it. Lots of threes, but I want you to tell me which ones appealed to you the most.”

“You want me…” Buck gapes. “But the sheet…?”

“The sheet only tells me a broad overview. You’re inexperienced in this area, so I’d like to know more about which of the things in each section were the ones you wanted to try the most.” Eddie arches a brow, “If you cant talk about it with me, Buck, how can I trust you to play safely in a scene with me?”

Buck splutters, wrenching back, “Trust? _Safety?_ W-what?” He waves his hand wildly in front of him, “I’m talking. Look, this is me. Talking.”

Eddie huffs out a wry laugh, “Some of this can be too much at times, Buck. Trust and honesty. That’s what this requires from both of us. There will be things that I may ask of you that you’re unwilling to give and vice versa.”

“Okay, I get it. I’m an adult… I can talk about it.” Buck states assuredly then murmurs more to himself, “I’ll just turn into a cherry tomato while I do it.”

“Okay then,” Eddie beams. “Bondage? Which turned you on the most?”

Buck clears his throat, glancing at Eddie before looking at the paper again. “Well, I liked, uh, blindfolds and ropes, handcuffs, leather cuffs…” He coughs, “The usual.”

Eddie nods with a smile, serious yet playful. “I like all of those. You’d be pretty bound to my bed, spread out for me to play with…”

“ _Oh.”_

“Next,” Eddie announces with a smirk, “impact play… Canes, belts, and face slapping are all hard limits.” He nods, “Willing to try spanking, flogging—”

“I looked that up!” Buck interjects with a sheepish grin, proud of his extensive research.

Eddie acknowledges him with a thumb brushing over his cheek. “You’ve done so well.”

A pleasurable thrill skates down Buck’s spine making his small grin split his cheeks at the giddiness he feels bubbling beneath the surface of his skin. Somewhere inside of him he knows that the reason he treated the research portion like he needed to write a book report on it is because he wanted to show Eddie how serious he was about this, about him. The slight acknowledgement is heady, addictive in the sense that he wants to always feel that surge of pride.

Eddie continues, and Buck straightens, trying to make sure he is paying attention. “You’re willing to try spanking, flogging, and riding crops. What’re your favorites from this section?”

“They all, uh, interest me, I guess. I don’t want to be, you know, _beaten_ , but when I looked up spanking and all the other stuff, I liked it. Sort of.”

“Even the riding crops? You researched that?” Eddie’s face is so completely serious, genuine curiosity playing there.

Buck blushes. “Not as extensive as the, um, spanking.”

Eddie grins, running a hand over his knee and squeezing comfortingly. He skims through the papers some more, and Buck takes the reprieve to stuff another cookie in his mouth. He chews slowly, looking around the living room while he reaches for his glass of milk. Christopher has a tiny walker in the corner of the room that he isn’t sure has actually been all that used. There are a few pictures scattered about the room. (One with what has to be Eddie’s parents and a tiny baby Christopher, and one with a dark haired woman in the hospital holding a newborn. Buck assumes that is Shannon and Christopher.)

Eddie’s home is not pristine and in top order. It looks lived in, well-loved like a small human runs wild inside from time to time, or a big man stomps through in smokey, soot-stained clothes and dirty shoes when he shouldn’t. There are toys haphazardly thrown into a box in the living room, dragons and pirates, wild animals and fake food erupt from the top, and it is a calming sight, reminding him of Max in that moment.

“Sexual activity is relatively simple,” Eddie says suddenly, and Buck immediately cuts off all thoughts of Max. _Weirdo._ “Group sex and any kind of play with others are hard limits. Everything else looks like something you’re willing to try.”

Buck nods, already knowing what he is about to ask, “Phone sex. I’ve never… I’d like to try it. With you. And, uh, orgasm…control?” He leans over and points to the one he’s talking about. “That sounds…intriguing.”

“All of that sounds intriguing to me as well,” Eddie says with a salacious grin. “I haven’t had phone sex since I was in the Army, so I’m overdue.”

He barely resists the urge to climb in Eddie’s lap and beg him to touch him until he is nothing but a pile of moaning flesh, breath coming out in short pants. The whole talking portion of the evening is leaving him with an itch in need of scratching, and to think he had thought this would make him miserable, would be the most awkward, counterproductive part of the night. Turns out, Eddie can make most anything sexy, and phone sex is already sexy so what the hell is he supposed to do now?

“Sensation play is the most surprising to me, I think. You’re hard limits are electricity and tickling, but other than that, you’re willing to try everything.” Eddie smirks, “One of your only fives in the whole packet is out beside kissing. I think I can get behind that.”

Buck picks at a piece of thread on his jeans as he replies as nonchalantly as possible, “When I was researching, I read and, uh, _watched_ a lot of stuff about sensory deprivation… It’s intense, but I think I could work up to it.”

Eddie’s face softens, “We can do anything you’d like. In this scenario, I might be the Dom, and you’re the submissive. But you have the power here. We can do whatever you’re comfortable with, Buck.”

“The next section,” Buck continues instead of commenting on _that_ tidbit of information for the moment, “is breath play, I think. I put a three in the, uh, choking, but I wanted to clarify that I only think I’m okay with, like, light choking.”

“I’m glad you clarified. The others are hard limits though.” Eddie’s brow furrows as he thinks, “In the bondage section, you were willing to try gags. Should we clarify that you’re willing as long as it doesn’t cut off your air supply? Start slow to make sure you really like it?”

“Yeah, that sounds…good. Okay.”

Eddie grimaces as he reads through the next section, “I kind of hate that this list calls it “body torture” honestly. It could be a little unsettling to a newbie.” At Buck’s shrug, he goes on, “This is mainly about nipples, which you put twos for.”

“I don’t really get much from _that_. Uh, my nipples, you know.”

“Got it. We’ll keep that in mind then.” He flips the page. “Humiliation… Most of these are ones. Do you know what a soft limit is?”

Buck clears his throat, “Something that I’m hesitant toward, or that I may have conditions about… right?”

“Right,” Eddie grins. “So most of this is a soft limit for you except verbal humiliation which is a two and a half.” He finishes with a light laugh.

“I researched humiliation a lot. I don’t _think_ I’d mind the, uh,” Buck ducks his head slightly, “slut or whore stuff, but some of the other things don’t really sit well with me.”

Which is surprising. Discovering the name-calling portion of humiliation was mind blowing.

Eddie hums, “So you wouldn’t mind me looking down at you while you sucked my cock and telling you what a slut you are for me?”

Buck’s eyes go wide, breath sputtering as the exact image he is creating shoots through Buck’s mind like a freight train on steroids, refusing to be ignored or downplayed. Because the truth is Buck very much likes the idea after hearing Eddie actually say it. He very much likes the way Eddie’s rough voice wraps around the words and caresses Buck with them instead of slapping him with them. It is said with a certain reverence, and that’s what Buck enjoys. The awed, tender, loving way Eddie likes calling Buck a slut for him as much as he loves hearing it.

“We can change that. The number…” Buck states after a moment. “Like a four. Or five.”

Eddie chuckles, leaning forward swiftly to place a chaste kiss on the corner of Buck’s mouth. It’s warm, slightly damp from where he’d licked his lips beforehand. It is perfect, and only solidified the moment for Buck. That this, a relationship (kinky or not), is happening with Eddie Diaz.

“Next up,” Eddie exclaims loudly, startling Buck in his seat. He laughs as Eddie begins talking, “Fetishes and role playing… Nothing but three’s mostly. Which are the ones you really want to try?”

Buck exhales, picking up a cookie as he remembers the one box in this section that really threw him for a loop. “Uh, obviously some role playing scenarios come to mind… Not really big into feet, like at all, but I’m willing to try to put that aside if you are…”

Honestly, Buck is not that willing. He’s almost positive he’ll throw up all over Eddie’s crotch if he wants him to suck on his toes or something. That’s just not something Buck thinks he’ll _ever_ be able to do. He mainly just said that in case it happens to be a five for Eddie.

Fingers crossed it’s not.

“Uh,” Eddie scratches the back of his neck, chuckling, “I can definitively say I do not need _feet_ in any aspect to reach ejaculation.”

Buck exhales, the relief rolling off of him in waves, and he snickers, slapping at Eddie’s arm. “Sorry, but I really didn’t want to have to go through with the whole “willing to try for you” bit.”

“You would’ve suffered through a foot fetish you don’t have just to please me?” Eddie arches a brow at him, smirking in a way that is entirely too smug and playful and fucking _adorable._

Buck rolls his lips inward, trying to stifle his grin. “It would’ve been a hardship, but if it meant I get to have sex with you, I guess I—”

Buck is cut off by his phone vibrating on the hard wood of the dining room table. He sucks his top lip in between his teeth, and he sends an apologetic look Eddie’s way.

“Sorry. I wouldn’t normally, but…”

Eddie waves him off, “I get it. Trust me. Answer it. I’m just going to clean up a little.”

Buck practically dive bombs for the phone after darting away from where he left Eddie standing in the living room and seeing Monty’s name flashing on the screen.

“Monty,” Buck says in lieu of a greeting. “Is everything okay?”

Monty clicks her teeth together a few times, like she’s nervous or overwhelmed, and that only makes Buck start pacing around the dining room. She exhaled roughly, “Okay, I’m a police officer. I am literally a member of a SWAT team. I’m a goddamn sniper, Buck.”

“Please don’t cuss in front of my kid.” Buck rattles off instinctively. “What is going on, Monty?”

Images of his daughter getting her arm torn to shreds in the garbage disposal, or having vomit and poop explosions everywhere flash through his mind, and he starts gathering his things immediately. He’s searching for his coat when Monty finally responds.

“Okay, she fell.” There’s a brief pause before, “Not bad! I swear. Just a busted lip. I stopped the bleeding and everything.”

Buck breathes out gruffly, relieved that it’s just a minor injury that honestly Max has had dozens of times and will probably have dozens more. Eddie steps around the corner, carrying the plate of cookies, now only half full, to the counter— _when had he migrated to the kitchen?_ —where he decides to lean, super casually, and cross his arms over his chest with concern etched into his features.

And isn’t that remarkable?

Buck can see the concern in the way the skin between his brows puckers slightly as his eyebrows dip. He can see it in the way the corners of his eyes wrinkle as he stares intently at Buck, eyes flitting over his face, his chest, his arms and hands, his legs. He can see the concern in the way his shoulders are tense, stiff as he patiently waits, completely in the dark, until Buck is able to speak to him. Hell, he can even see the concern in the way his knuckles are white as he grips his arm, like it’s killing him not to reach out and comfort Buck, who’s obviously distressed.

Buck gives his head a minuscule little shake before focusing his attention back on Monty. “So…why exactly are you calling me if you have it under control?” Not that he isn’t glad she let him know his baby was injured. He’s grateful.

But he’s on a date… Oh, damn. That definitely puts him in the bad parent category again.

Monty growls. Actually growls into the phone. “I’m calling _you_ because she won’t—stop—crying!”

Buck rubs his forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “Okay, okay. I’m on my way back. Shouldn’t be long.” Buck rolls his eyes at Eddie. “She has a special stuffed whale. That’ll keep her calm until I get there.”

“Got it. Whale. Are we talking humpback? Beluga? Narwhal?”

“Oh, my god!” Buck laughs. “It’s just a kids stuffed whale. It looks nothing like an actual whale, you idiot.”

“Then what’s the point!”

“I’m hanging up now. Just…I’ll be there soon.”

He ends the call then looks up at Eddie, whose lips are twitching into a small ghost of a smile, and Buck loses it. Just starts laughing as an image of Monty, Alpha’s resident badass, freaking the fuck out as she scrambled to calm his daughter and find a stuffed whale in the chaos that is his home.

Buck pockets his phone, stepping closer to Eddie with a sheepish smile. “If you couldn’t tell, I have to go.”

“I did pick up on that,” Eddie nods solemnly, wrapping a hand around Buck’s forearm to pull him toward him until they’re toe to toe, and Buck has to reach his hands out to Eddie’s shoulder to keep his balance.

Buck licks his lips, delighting in the way Eddie’s eyes track the movement, and he takes hold of the moment, carding his fingers through the soft hair at the nape of Eddie’s neck. He toys with the strands for a few seconds, just reveling in this moment. It’s intimate the way Eddie gazes back at him softly, letting him pet as he sees fit, and when he leans forward to brush his lips over Eddie’s, he’s surprised by the way Eddie lets him guide this encounter. He lets him take his time, brushing barely there kisses along his lips, the corner of his mouth, his cheek.

Buck’s not sure what’s come over him. At first he felt frantic, ready for the heated kiss that he knew was coming, but now he wants to savor this. Wants to savor Eddie, wants to savor his playfulness, his gentleness, his unwavering sense of security.

“Do you feel this, too?” Buck whispers against his lips, and for all the fear Buck’s felt over the last week about moving too fast, he can’t regret saying it. He doesn’t want to shove the question back inside because this, this budding relationship with Eddie, feels deep. It feels substantial and too big to ignore.

Eddie squeezes his hips, trailing one hand to rest at Buck’s lower back, thumb rubbing up and down, back and forth, over and over again. Eddie closes his eyes, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. “Yeah.” He swallows roughly. “Yeah, Evan. I feel it.”

Eddie captures Buck’s lips, planting a firm kiss there for Buck to read between the lines. He’s pouring everything into this. Everything that they both know it’s too soon to actually say out loud. It doesn’t matter. Buck can feel it through the way he languidly kisses and licks into Buck’s mouth. He can feel it in the way he presses his body tightly against Buck’s, wrapping his arm around Buck’s waist tightly. There’s a desperation to this kiss, not a frantic kind of desperation that leads to clothes being shed, but a desperation that leaves Buck feeling torn apart, metaphorically stripped bare.

But so is Eddie. He’s showing everything. He’s using this kiss to tell Buck exactly what he feels, and it’s everything Buck is feeling.

It’s hysterical, this insanity. It’s _safety_ and a _warm embrace_ in an impossible situation. It’s the peaceful vulnerability they’re sharing together, loosening their burdens through the action. It’s the fear of the unknown and the reckless abandon that seems to fade to the back burner as the world spins and spins until it just…stops. It just stops, and all that’s left is Buck and Eddie, fitted perfectly together, like…

Like they were made for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will eventually be a series where I post little prompts/ideas for this universe specifically, so if you have anything you’d like to see eventually (like a sexy idea, ya lil nasties) please leave them in comments here or on my tumblr!!


	4. love me naked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> title is from naked — ella mai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY BUT LISTEN I swear I planned to follow the update schedule, but I also tell y’all all the time that I’ma liar and a wishy-washy bitch so don’t fucking come for me, okay...
> 
> This will be the one and only I update for January on this fic since I’m taking the month to focus on my original writing! My pinned post on tumblr goes into it more, but I’ve been advised by my council (ye ol group chat) not to discuss it on the site because that’s a no no. So that means you should check out my tumblr to know what’s happening with me... I mean, if you care. If you don't care then, well, that’s okay. Sometimes it’s too much hard work stanning such a qween.
> 
> Anyways here’s 11k of schmoop and maybe, just maybe, a lil smutty smut at the end. 
> 
> Trigger warning at the beginning for bullying and slurs. See the end notes for more on that.
> 
> As always I’m on tumblr being...honestly really fuckin weird, okay?  
> http://fernnette.tumblr.com/

“Max, you cannot push your friends,” Buck scolds his daughter as she pouts in the backseat after he picked her up from school where her teacher practically admonished him like he was the one who pushed little Gregory.

Max is looking out the window with her arms crossed, and it’s like Buck is watching a dramatic scene from a movie or a music video. All she needs is a little rain trailing down the glass, and it would be picture perfect. She has yet to say anything after Buck had to drag her out of the building and into the car.

“Max…” Buck says, letting out a harsh sigh.

“Please don’t be mad at me, Daddy,” she pleads softly.

How does a parent respond to that? Because Buck isn’t mad. He’s not. He can’t even say he’s really upset because he knows his daughter, so there must’ve been a reason she decided to push the little kid. That doesn’t mean he can sit back and condone violence especially when, for some odd reason, her teacher has decided that since he’s a police officer he should lead by example. The amount of times Miss Andrews has essentially ‘taken him to the principal’s office’ after Max has an outburst of any kind is astounding. She’s four years old!

“I’m not mad, Maxie.” Buck responds after a moment, his voice cautious for some reason. “But I am sad,” he tries, “that you won’t talk to me.”

Max purses her lips, hitching her chin high in defiance. “We don’t say mean things. I didn’t say mean things.”

“Who said mean things? Gregory?”

Max nods, a sad frown overtaking her face as Buck pulls into his driveway. He turns the car off and turns around in his seat to face his daughter. She looks at her feet kicking out at the passenger seat. Finally she says, “He told Christopher that he…that he was stupid…and a dumb triple?”

 _A cripple._ Buck inhales swiftly, understanding exactly what Max was trying to say. She looks close to tears, and she lifts her head, connecting eyes with him, and that’s all it takes for her to start crying.

“Max…”

She shook her head, “He was crying, Daddy. I don’t even know what a-a triple is, but he was not happy.”

“I know, baby.” Buck helps her unbuckle and pulls her into the driver’s seat so she can settle in his lap. She tucks her head under his chin, pushing her wet face into his neck. Buck shushes her cries, his heart breaking for his daughter’s pain, but also for Christopher, who, from Max is saying, definitely understood what Gregory was saying.

Max hiccups, wiping her snotty nose on Buck’s t-shirt. “I didn’t like that he called my friend a mean word… You said we don’t say that word.”

“Did you tell Miss Andrews what Gregory said to Christopher?”

Max nods, lifting her head angrily. “She said…she said I was a bad girl, and I had to keep my mouth closed in timeout.”

Buck can feel his hands begin to shake, and he can barely contain the surge of anger he feels as he envisions his daughter standing up to Christopher’s bully only for the adult in the room to tell her she was a bad girl _and_ refusing to listen to her.

“Okay, Max. I’ll take care of it.” Buck smooths his hands down her arms, plastering a small, forced smile on his face as he lifts her head to look at her face. “How about we have spaghetti and meatballs for dinner? Sound good?”

Max lit up, smiling brightening her otherwise gloomy face. “That’s my favorite, you know!”

He did know. “No way! Well, let’s go. You can help me make the meatballs.”

The next day when Buck drops Max off for school he makes sure he’s early that day, which is no small feat considering Max wanted to act like she had been partying all night instead of passing out on the couch with popcorn stuck to her lips at eight o’clock. But he manages to arrive in time to catch Miss Andrews in her classroom with a handful of children, and Buck signs Max in then motions for Miss Andrews to come and talk to him.

“Can I help you, Mr. Buckley?”

Buck scowls. He can’t help it. She’s all fake. Fake smile, fake syrupy-sweet voice, fake pleasantries. It’s disheartening in light of what Max has told him. “I hope so. I’d like to know if Gregory’s parents were called and told of his behavior from yesterday as well.”

Miss Andrews’ brow furrows, and she looks back at the children playing on the alphabet rug. “I’m sorry, Mr. Buckley, but Gregory’s parents were informed of the incident. I, unfortunately, don’t understand what you’re trying to insinuate with your tone though.”

Buck laughs, dry and humorless, “Max, after I actually _listened_ to her, explained that the reason she pushed Gregory was because he called Christopher Diaz a “dumb cripple”.”

Miss Andrews eyes widen, mouth parting on a gasp, and as much as he is enjoying the satisfaction from her obvious dismay of the situation, he’s disappointed that she didn’t take the time to listen and understand.

“If you would’ve taken the time to figure out the cause, you would’ve been able to grasp the whole picture here.” Buck scratches at his eyebrow, exasperated that he feels like he’s having to preach at this woman. “I have spoken to Max about her part, and that she was wrong. But she is very upset that the bully in _this_ equation was coddled while she was told to keep her mouth shut in timeout.”

Buck can feel his face heating, anger seeping into his bones with every passing minute. It’d taken him some time to cool down last night, and he refrained from calling Eddie to tell him about the ordeal. But after the way their teacher handled everything, he’s thinking he should’ve just let Eddie deal with it. He’s obviously more equipped for this kind of thing considering Christopher is his child. He’s probably heard every derogatory thing someone could say about him.

Great. Now he’s just getting himself worked up again. He blows out a breath, hands fisting at his sides.

“My sincerest apologies, Mr. Buckley. You’re completely right, and I will take care of this today.” Miss Andrews smiles, fake and forced, at a parent signing their child in at the door. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

Buck snorts. “I shouldn’t have had to honestly.” He waves at Max again where she’s “reading” a book with a friend in the middle of the rug. He cuts his eyes at Miss Andrews as he turns around, “Have a good day.”

“Yes… You, too!” She calls after him, but he’s already gone, walking out of the door quickly in hopes of avoiding Eddie and Christopher.

It’s cowardice. Buck knows that. He understands that avoiding Eddie at this point will only make it seem like he’s kept something from him, making Eddie question his ability to be honest with him, and that thought alone is the only reason he slows his strides. That was one of the only things that Eddie stressed at the beginning: honesty. He said he needed to be able to trust Buck, and he’s not sure if that only applied to the sex, or if that meant outside of the bedroom too.

“Buck!”

He raises his head at the tiny, high pitched voice shouting his name down the long hallway, and he grins at Christopher as he walks as fast as he can toward him. Eddie walks behind him, hands tucked into the pockets of his uniform navy slacks. He looks good, like he’s still on shift and tired, but good. Always good.

“Hey, buddy. What’s going on this morning?”

Christopher looks up at Buck, licking his lips as he thinks. After a few seconds, he smiles brightly at him. “We brought you…coffee!”

Buck flicks his eyes to Eddie’s with a fond smile on his face. Something warm unfurls itself in his chest, telling him to accept this. Accept that someone cares. That someone wants to spoil him.

Buck crouches in front of Christopher. He ruffles his hair the way he’s seen Eddie do. “Thanks, little man. I’ll let you get to class, and I’ll wait for your daddy outside.”

Christopher nods his head. Buck’s simple answer is enough for him to start toward his classroom again, but Eddie wraps his hand around Buck’s forearm lightly, squeezing just enough to get his attention.

“Wait for me outside, okay?” Eddie smirks. “He wasn’t kidding about the coffee.”

Buck let out a breath, overwhelmed by how good Eddie Diaz is. “Okay, yeah. I’ll be out front. Take your time.”

Turns out when Buck told him to take his time, Eddie really took it to heart; because, it’s twenty whole minutes later before Eddie is practically stomping out of the school with the biggest scowl on his face. Or maybe not a scowl. More confused and soft at the same time. Whatever it is, it is confusing in and of itself to Buck, who’s leaning against the tailgate of Eddie’s truck checking his watch and biting his lip raw and bleeding for every minute that passes by.

As soon as Eddie locks eyes with Buck, his face morphs from soft yet scary to soft yet bemused. It’s a subtle change. Mostly in the way his eyes soften and the way his mouth twitches. It isn’t happy, per se, but it isn’t angry either.

When Eddie is within hearing distance, and he’s still marching straight at Buck, full speed, he presses himself back as much as he can against the truck.

“Listen, I don’t know what she told you about yesterday but—nngh.”

Eddie cuts him off, grabbing his face roughly in his hands and slanting his mouth over Buck’s. It’s hot and wet, everything Buck dreams about receiving from Eddie and everything wildly inappropriate for an elementary school parking lot. But he doesn’t care, and neither does Eddie by the way he’s pressing his body as close to Buck’s as possible.

And that’s his dick… Eddie Diaz is digging his erect penis into his hip in the school parking lot. Holy Jesus.

Buck grabs at Eddie’s wrists, not pulling his hands away from his face or egging him on, but more because he needs _something_ to fucking hold onto as Eddie quite literally fucks his mouth, slipping his tongue past the seam of his lips and demanding control. Honestly, Buck doesn’t even have to think about it. He just lets Eddie kiss and lick and guide because damn, it feels good.

“Did you…” Eddie breathes against Buck’s lips as he pulls away, and Buck is blind, literally. He can’t open his eyes. He can’t catch his breath. He’s on fire for this man, whose cock is still very much _hard_ and digging into Buck deliciously.

Buck finally opens his eyes slowly to find Eddie gazing at him full of awe and wonder. It’s a look Buck isn’t used to seeing directed at him. He licks his lips, swallowing. “Did I what?”

Eddie leans back, brushing his thumb over Buck’s bottom lip where he’d chewed it raw then Eddie kissed it swollen. “Did you drop Max early so you could chew Amy out over yesterday?”

That…that is not what he was expecting him to say. His brow furrows, “Who’s Amy?”

Eddie chuckles, full and happy, “Miss Andrews? You didn’t think her first name was Miss, did you?”

“No! Shut up…” Buck smiles, a soft laugh escaping him. “To answer your question though…yes, I did.”

“Thank you. I can’t even…” Eddie smirks suddenly, leaning in to whisper in Buck’s ear, his lips brushing along the shell of his ear as he says, “If we weren’t in this parking lot, I’d show you just how thankful I am for you, Evan Buckley.”

_Oh._

Buck swallows, blushing wildly and flexing his fingers where they’re still gripping Eddie’s wrists before letting go and taking a step back to place a hand on the truck. He leans against it with his arm extended then drops it again to place his hands on his hips.

Eddie huffs, beaming at him, “You’re so cute.”

“C-cute?” Buck stammers. He’s a grown man, okay? He is not cute.

“Yeah,” he says as he dips down to place a kiss on Buck’s cheek before stepping around him to open the door to his truck. He grabs the travel cup of coffee for Buck, handing it off sweetly. “Unfortunately, I’m technically still on shift. I just wanted to see Chris…and you.”

“And me?”

Eddie grins, loving the way Buck apparently can’t speak more than two words at a time right now. “I’ll call you later?”

Buck nods, a shy smile forming on his lips. “I would like that… Be careful. Stay safe…”

“Always, Buckley,” Eddie quips playfully. “You, too, okay? Don’t give me a reason to come rescue you with the jaws.”

“You know, I am a police officer, right? I can save myself. I’m actually trained for it.”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie smirks, amused. “Just…if I’m being careful, you have to be, too. Got it?”

Buck bites down on his bottom lip, tugging it into his mouth, loving the way it sends little sparks of pain throughout him from his nerves and their make-out a few minutes previous.

He smirks at Eddie. “Yes, sir.”

He watches as Eddie’s eyes darken, desire burning hot on his face as he stares back at Buck like he’s unsure if he can really leave now, or if he needs to send Buck to the station worked up like he so clearly is.

Buck spins on his heel with a final wave behind him and practically skips across the lot to his car. When he slides inside, he stares out of the window for a moment.

“ _I’m in way over my head. Oh, god.”_

***

Buck isn’t in a good mood. His nerves are shot, and he’s rocking a massive headache that’s quickly turning into a migraine as the day wears on. Buck wishes he could say that one singular is the reason for his sour mood, but alas from the beginning of his shift till the end it has been one thing after another.

It started this morning when Max, thirty-five pounds of sass in a red long-sleeve under her mermaid costume from last Halloween, came barreling down the stairs to tell him she wasn’t wearing shoes to school today because “ _Mermaids don’t wear shoes, Daddy. They don’t even have legs.”_ To which Buck had to essentially wrestle her back upstairs where he forced her limp, crying body into a t-shirt and jeans (“ _I don’t want to wear_ stupid _pants!”_ ).

The part that really solidified the morning though was the full headlock he practically had her in to brush her teeth. That was fun. Or was it when she kicked him in the chest when he put her _basic_ white Ked’s on? Really, there were so many moments that just set the tone for the rest of the day.

He was late dropping her off for the day, which meant he had to sign-in at the office, have an escort take him to Miss Andrews room, sign-in for a _second_ time at her door, fight with his daughter for five minutes as she clung to his leg like he was about to toss her into the wild with no supplies, and fucking run outside to his car where he promptly sat for two minutes contemplating this whole parenting thing.

That’s when he realized he was late for work. He broke about every traffic law to make sure he arrived at the facility within ten minutes of his original start time, but because karma was apparently not on his side, it was training day, so Athena decided to punish him for his tardiness by working him over twice as hard. Fortunately, an hour in they got an active case to work, and he was saved from his torment.

Unfortunately, it was the one of the worst kinds of cases, and when Buck read through the files, taking in the multiple domestic calls made that led nowhere, the stay-at-home mom with a newborn, the past due notices for payday loans, the DUI, he felt himself automatically start curling in on himself.

When they met with the wife, it was like every emotion Buck had pushed and shoved down came bubbling to the surface, suffocating him. It was like a Pavlovian response to shy away from her when he saw the purpling bruises around her throat, the yellowing marks on her forearms, the way she couldn’t make eye contact with anyone in the room but Monty, or the way she trembled the entire time they questioned her. Like she just knew her husband would stroll through the front door, a free man, and punish her for calling the police.

While Monty relayed any new information to the team, he watched her, Ellie Danvers, as she soothed her baby, bouncing and rocking her until she fell asleep in her arms, and only then did Buck see a tear escape her eyes.

What Ellie was going through, what she’d been going through for a long time probably, is more than Buck had ever endured with Pete in Hershey, but the few times he let it happen were enough to send him down a rabbit hole of self-deprecation and distrust for people. It made himself shy away from the general population, become someone demure around others, someone he doesn’t recognize.

That’s what made his relationship with Eddie Diaz so…odd to him. Eddie made things feel right, made him feel invincible, like as long as he was smiling at him, Buck could accomplish anything. He’s never felt like that with anyone else before, and that’s what has him clinging so tightly to the theory of fate tying them together. Because that’s a thing for Buck, probably for most people, feeling safe and comfortable in your own skin, in your home, in your life.

He almost walked away from Eddie right before that first date for the sole reason that he’s different from what Buck was used to. He’s fit, could probably hold his own against Buck in a fight, and he’s cocky, self-assured and put together. But because Buck actually gave him a chance, he’s seen that while Eddie is all of those, he’s also a kind, playful, patient man.

His physical differences didn’t matter in the end because Pete was a scrawny tech guy, and he still managed to abuse Buck, who’s two times his size at least. And maybe that’s the hardest part. That Buck felt so secure in himself, so sure of his size and strength, that he thought he was untouchable. That no one would even dare to assault him because he was so…intimidating.

It just goes to show that it didn’t matter what Buck looked like. It didn’t matter what Pete or Ellie Danvers’ husband looked like. Abuse doesn’t discriminate.

So Buck’s feeling off today. For the rest of his shift as they work the case, he’s quiet, withdrawn even though work is where he feels more himself than anywhere else. Monty and Buck waited around the Danvers’ home all day keeping an eye on Ellie and the baby while EMS examined the two of them for any wounds that needed immediate medical attention.

It all came to a head when Buck answered the Danvers’ door, hand resting on his gun at his hip, to see Hen and Eddie standing on the other side dressed in their uniforms with Bobby lagging behind them as he chatted with one of the uniforms standing in the driveway.

Buck’s not saying he did the right thing by avoiding Eddie like a hawk, but he’s also not saying he did the wrong thing. He just did what he felt he needed to, what he needed to do to protect himself from the impending emotional spiral of death he could feel building. He was already prepared to spread himself out on the couch, starfish style, with Max’s (new) bag of pretzels and a beer. He might’ve even been preparing himself to let out a good cry sometime throughout the night as well.

Eddie Diaz, though… He had other plans. Plans that included disrupting Buck and Max’s evening plans to provide dinner for the Buckley’s. Plans that included fancy beer and a little hand holding—Eddie’s words, not Buck’s.

And that’s where he’s at now, holding the door wide for the Diaz’s as Christopher goes stumbling right past Buck with a soft hand on his hip in greeting before meeting up with Max in the living room. Eddie stands in the threshold, holding two pizza boxes and a case of beer with a soft smile on his face.

“Hi.”

Eddie’s smile grows wider. “Hi, Buck.”

Buck steps back, allowing Eddie to finally come into his home. He grabs the pizzas from his hands, leading him through the living room, where Max is showing Christopher her box of army men and tub of barbies, to the kitchen. Buck places the boxes onto the counter, still trying to figure out what exactly to say when Eddie beats him to it.

“This is a nice place.” He looks around the small kitchen, smiling at the refrigerator door full of pictures and class work Max has colored. The most recent drawing of Max riding the class bunny to the moon—always the moon—is tacked on top of the others, but Eddie takes a moment to look through them.

Buck licks his lips, turning to grab plates from the cabinet. “It’s not much, but…it’s home for now.”

“For now?” Eddie asks, leaning one hip against the fridge with his arms crossing over his chest. “Are you renting?”

“No, uh, this is actually Maddie’s house,” Buck explains. He pulls two slices out of the top box for Chris and Max. “She’s practically living with Chim these days though, so it’s pretty much just us… Do you want two or three slices?”

Eddie pushes off the fridge, “Start with two. Thank you.” He pokes his head into the living room to check on the kids, who’re being suspiciously quiet. “Max is good at getting Chris to do his PT without realizing he’s doing PT.”

Buck chuckles, “Yeah? Well, we won’t say anything then, or else they’ll stop.”

“Good idea, Buckley.” Eddie shakes a finger at him, eyes narrowing, and Buck grins at the man’s playfulness. Eddie crooks a finger at him, “Come here.”

Buck is helpless to resist the idea of being in Eddie’s arms, so he wipes his hands on the towel thrown haphazardly onto the counter before crossing the kitchen to stand in front of Eddie. He doesn’t waste time, cupping Buck’s cheek softly, guiding him into a gentle kiss, not exactly chaste, but closed-mouth, not deep or heated. Like an I-missed-you kiss, and Buck melts into him, hands resting on Eddie’s chest.

When Eddie pulls away, he rests their foreheads together, and Buck keeps his eyes closed, savoring the feeling of being here in Eddie’s arms after the day he’s had. It feels like…coming home. It’s safe and comforting in a way Buck’s never experienced, but he wants to keep experiencing.

“Hey,” Eddie murmurs, lifting Buck’s chin until he opens his eyes and meets his gaze. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Buck inhales softly. “Noth—how’d you know?”

Eddie sweeps a thumb over the birthmark above Buck’s eye, watching the way the skin moves under his touch. “I sensed it. I have superpowers, didn’t I tell you?”

“I think we skipped the superpower section of the kink list actually…”

Eddie chuckles, placing a chaste kiss on the corner of Buck’s mouth. “Well, now you know, so talk to me, Evan. What’s going on?”

Buck sighs, looking down at Eddie’s chest. He flicks at the buttons on his long-sleeve a couple times, wondering if he should lie, hide that part of himself for just a little while longer, or…accept the embarrassment now; just get it all over with before he gets in too deep.

Buck swallows, still looking at Eddie’s chest, focusing on the little tufts of dark hair he can see poking out of the top of Eddie’s shirt. “This case was…hard for me.”

“I could tell. It hit you harder than everyone else.” Eddie cards his fingers through Buck’s hair at the back of his head, rubbing and scratching at his scalp. “Do you want to talk about why, though?”

“It’s why I left Hershey,” Buck mumbles. He finally connects eyes with Eddie, and some of the tension he’s feeling deflates when he sees nothing but concern for Buck there. It pushes him through the next part. “I didn’t want to tell you at the diner, but… Pete—he’s the reason Max and I left.”

Eddie takes a deep breath. “He hurt you?”

Buck nods. “Only a few times. I…I left before it got too deep.” Buck rests his forehead against Eddie’s shoulder. “There wasn’t—He didn’t hit me. Just…grabbed me. For a small guy, he had a surprisingly firm grip,” Buck tries to chuckle, but it comes out shaky, humorless.

“Buck—”

Buck cuts him off, “I know. It’s not… I’m fine. I’m okay. Really. It was only a few times.”

“You know, someone who drowns in seven feet of water is just as dead as someone who drowns in twenty feet.” Eddie runs his hands down Buck’s arms until he can grasp Buck’s hands in his own. “It isn’t a competition to see who’s suffered more. Don’t belittle yourself that way.”

Eddie is gazing at him like they’re not standing in Buck’s kitchen, like their kids aren’t playing in the next room, like Buck doesn’t have a singular tear (how dramatic) rolling down his face as they speak. And Buck… Buck is blown away by how much he adores this man.

Buck squeezes Eddie’s hand, sniffling. “I am really glad I decided not to stand you up on that date.”

Eddie gasps, his lips quirk up, as his eyes brows rise in mock offense. “You considered leaving me all alone in that diner with the drunk kids in the corner booth? That’s cold, Evan Buckley.”

Buck laughs lightly, marveling in the way this whole time Eddie has only ever tried to be courteous and caring, constantly checking in with him and making him feel free to speak and actually be _heard_. It doesn’t seem like a significant point to tick in the pro-Eddie column, but Buck has always had to fight to speak, fight to be heard, fight to be something more to the people he cares about. Because Buck is more than his looks. He’s more than his face and his muscles and his job.

Buck just wants to be _more_ , and Eddie makes him feel like that and a bag of chips.

Buck opens his mouth to tell him just that when the scamper of little feet bursts his Diaz bubble, and he steps away from the man with an apologetic look. He wants to tell Max himself. Not have her walk in on the two of them making googly eyes at each other and holding hands. For what it’s worth, Eddie gives him a little nod, and Buck hopes that’s his way of saying he understands.

“Daddy!” Max screeches like a fucking bird as she runs through the kitchen.

Buck grimaces, “Max, inside voice. Please use it.”

“Oh, right,” She grins, folding her body in half, hunched over like a weird, over dramatic retelling of the Hunchback of Notre Dame. She says in a more normal voice, “Daddy, we’re starving to death.”

Buck arches a brow at her and Christopher standing side by side with huge smiles on their face. “To death? Starving to death… I guess I should feed you then, right?”

The kids nod their heads in unison, and Buck’s smile softens as he allows himself to think about more nights like this in the future. Eddie leaning one hip against the table. Max and Christopher standing together making mischief and being cute. It’s something Buck wants more of. He can already tell. He wants to come home to this very night after a hard day, immediately wrapping himself around Eddie for comfort and listening to their kids making ‘pew pew’ sounds in the living room.

Buck clears his throat. “Go wash your hands. Show Chris where your special soap is.”

Max hops up and down and grabs Christopher’s hand, pulling him along slowly all while telling him about where she keeps her special soap.

“It’s not that special,” Buck tells Eddie. “It’s actually from the dollar store, but she hides it so no one else can use it.”

Eddie chuckles, coming further into the kitchen to stand beside Buck. “It’s special to her. That’s all that matters.”

A few minutes later, Max and Christopher come stomping back into the kitchen, plopping themselves into chairs before immediately digging into their pizza without waiting for Buck or Eddie, and it’s nice, being together like this. All four of them having dinner together after a hard day.

It’s exactly what Buck needs.

Then Max says in the most serious, let-me-tell-you-about-my-day tone, “I pooped in my panties a little bit today.”

Buck groans, “Max…”

***

Buck smiles down at the simple, Italian menu in his hands as he tries and fails to stop the way his eyes flicker up every few seconds to catch Eddie’s relaxed face across from him. He decides on some fancy pasta dish and places his menu on the table before clasping his hands together in front of himself on top of the table.

The two of them have fallen into a routine lately that mainly included flirty texting and quick calls in the morning with a longer (read: two hours) phone call after they rush to get their kids asleep for the night with absolutely no hanky panky happening yet, and honestly he’s been more than okay with that. After their first couple of dates revolving so heavily around discussing their sexual preferences, Buck started to feel pressured. Not necessarily pressure from Eddie, but internal pressure that after all this talk he wouldn’t actually be worth it.

The negative thoughts come from a place of insecurity that Buck doesn’t like to acknowledge. If he admits that the blooming insecurity comes from Abby, who cheated on him with his best friend in school, Ali, who admittedly wanted more from him but only for her own selfish reasons, and Pete, who made him feel so small and emasculated by the end that he moved to a different state. So naturally Buck has some hang ups when it comes to his ability to be a good partner or a good lover, and the latter seems so important suddenly; because, Eddie actually wants him, has made it clear just how much Buck affects him and had made it clear that he’s content to also just _be_ with Buck as well.

It’s strange in his mind that someone as beautiful and put together as Eddie could ever want him this much, but Eddie leaves no room for misinterpretation. When he gives him a coffee (and occasionally a pastry) in the morning at the school drop off, he makes sure to tell Buck exactly how he feels about seeing him, (“ _You always smell like toothpaste and peanut butter in the mornings. It’s ridiculous how much I look forward to smelling you.”_ ) and he messages Buck several times a day to see how his day is going or just to tell him something funny that happened. A few days ago he sent Buck a message telling him about a call they had where a car drove straight over an overpass into the second story of a building.

Domestic. That’s what it is. It’s domesticity at it’s finest, and Buck loves it. Thrives in it. He’s a better person every day because he knows that Eddie Diaz is thinking about him, worrying about him. It feels different, better, because Buck isn’t stuck in this one-sided emotional relationship. Eddie’s in the same boat as him, oars laying across the boat as they stare lovingly into each other’s eyes like a bunch of loons.

That being said Buck misses sex. He’s tired of skirting around it because of their hectic lives. One of them is either working or dealing with the aftermath of a kid emergency. It’s hard to prioritize his sex life over Max, but damn it, his right hand is begging for a break.

When he thinks about it, it’s not really him prioritizing one over the other. Honestly ‘having sex with Eddie Diaz’ is probably closer to the self-care category for Buck, and he made a promise to Maddie when he moved here that he’d take care of himself, so really he’s breaking a promise to himself and his sister by not having sex with Eddie as soon as possible.

Buck looks around the restaurant, noting the bathrooms tucked in the back corner away from the tables which happens to be super convenient for him.

He says, “I’ll be right—”

“Do you want—”

Buck laughs softly when they both start at the same time, and he motions minutely for Eddie to go first.

Eddie quirks one side of his mouth up as he continues, “Do you want to come back to my place afterward? We didn’t really talk about our plans after dinner, but…” He trails off, voice low and seductive, full of the potential opportunities the night holds depending on Buck’s answer.

Of course Buck’s answer is: “Yes.” He breathes, whispering lowly so the family of four seated a few feet from them can’t hear him respond, “ _Fuck yes._ ”

Eddie chuckles, eyes darkening with lust as he adjusts in his seat. He smooths a hand over his navy button down, looking out across the dining area before letting his eyes find Buck’s again. “I was thinking you could stay the night since Chris is at my Abuela’s.”

“Yes,” Buck blurts immediately. “Max is with Maddie and Chim because…” he blushes, “I was going to invite you back to mine actually…just in case.”

“I like where your head’s at, Buck.”

Buck chews on his bottom lip, thinking back to his original thought he’d had a few minutes ago, and stands abruptly. He jabs a finger toward the bathrooms. “I will be right back.”

Eddie tilts his head to the side, a small, confused grin forming over his lips as he nods once, and Buck is off like a rocket, practically sprinting off toward the men’s room like he’s about to pee in his pants.

But he’s not.

He’s actually not sure entirely what he’s doing because he’s never done this before, but Eddie makes him feel adventurous, like he wants to try everything under the sun with him, and that’s what he’s doing now. He’ll call it scratching one off of his sexual bucket list for the sake of needing a name for it to be able to explain it away later if need be.

He jerks the bathroom door open, hesitating at the lock before opting to leave it unlocked since there were several stalls, and he didn’t want to unintentionally draw attention to himself if that little eight year old boy at the table beside him needs to pee. It’ll be fine, he tells himself as he rushes into the last stall, the handicap stall, and slams the door shut with a loud bang that makes him wince before throwing the lock in place. He presses his back against the door, thinking and maybe trying to calm his breathing since his lungs are acting like he just ran a marathon.

He decides to stop thinking. Thinking can get you in as much trouble as not thinking if you _think_ about it. But he’s not. Thinking, that is, so instead he pats his front pants pocket where his phone is cradled in the pocket of his slacks.

He inhales then exhales. He can do this.

Buck slides his hand down the front of his button down, fingers bumping up and down over the buttons as he descends to his pants where his cock is half hard, dying for attention.

He briefly remembers that he should probably be quick if he’s going to do this without raising any alarms, so he flicks open the button on his slacks and pushes them and his briefs down to his mid-thigh. His cock is flushed, thickening as he stares down at it like it’s his first time all over again.

Buck reaches down and digs in the back pocket of his slacks for the packet of lube he stuffed in there last minute before he left the house. He turns around so his front is facing the stall door, one hand braced against the brown wood while the other brings the packet to his mouth, tearing it open with his teeth. A little falls to the floor, and he curses softly. He takes the packet and squeezes some onto two fingers before reaching around and rubbing around his hole slowly.

He circles his rim for a minute, just feeling as he lets his forehead fall forward to rest on his forearm. He sinks the first finger in quickly, stifling the strangled moan that threatens to burst out of him in his arm then starts pumping his finger slowly, teasing. When he withdraws his finger, he lets another slip in with it, keeping his steady rhythm going until he feels himself loosening, opening up and struggling to contain his cries for more.

But this isn’t about getting off in a fancy Italian restaurant’s bathroom. This is about seduction. Straight forward seduction since apparently Evan Buckley doesn’t know any other way. You know, go big or go home, and he’s not fucking going home.

When he’s able to work in three fingers comfortably, his phone vibrates on top of the toilet paper holder with a harsh buzz, and he startles, yanking his fingers out of his aching hole with a wince.

“ _Shit, shit, shit…_ ” he whisper-yells to himself as he uses his clean hand to check the device.

 **To:** Evan Buckley

 **From:** Eddie Diaz

_Are you okay in there? Sick?_

Fuck. He’s been in the bathroom too long. Nearing twenty minutes.

 **To:** Eddie Diaz

 **From:** Evan Buckley

_No! I’m fine. Don’t leave._

Buck shimmies his pants up as best he can, disposes of the empty lube packet in the trash can, and scurries out of the stall to wash his hands. When he enters the dining area again, there’s a pretty, long haired woman in an elegant dress standing at their table talking to Eddie, who’s smiling brightly with a hand resting lightly on her shoulder, and Buck sees red immediately. Because Eddie Diaz is taken.

Possessiveness. Red-hot and streaked with different levels of bitchiness. It takes everything in him to stop the urge to march right up to the table, insinuate himself between the two of them, and draw Eddie in for the wettest, nastiest kiss of his life. He’d probably even rut against him if he let loose right now, and that would not do. Because Eddie Diaz is calm, cool, and as always, in control.

So instead of rushing at the two of them, fists flying at the woman as his lips searched for Eddie, he calmly made his way over to the table with a smile on his face. He knows how fake and forced it must look, but it’s literally the best he can do under the circumstances.

“—so cute! Maybe I can come to the park with you guys later this week.”

Eddie grins, practically fucking beams at her, and he nods happily. “You know how much Christopher loves you, Lena.” Eddie lifts his head, meeting Buck’s gaze over Lena’s head, and he must not like whatever he sees on Buck’s face because he frowns immediately.

Eddie holds his hand out, and Buck easily slides his into the man’s firm grip. He squeezes Buck’s hand before directing his attention back to Lena. “Lena, this is Evan Buckley. He works with Athena.”

Buck, the epitome of manners and polite hospitality, extends his hand to Lena with a small smile. “Nice to meet you, Lena. How do you and Eddie know each other?” Buck tilts his head toward Eddie.

“We work together at the station,” Lena flicks her eyes at Eddie, and he can feel the man squeeze his hand again.

“She’s one of our best firefighters at the one-eighteen.” Eddie boasts. “We don’t always work the same shift though.”

 _Well, shucks,_ Buck thinks, _I hate that you can’t work with pretty Lena all the time._

Instead he says, “You guys seem close, so I can imagine that…sucks,” which isn’t any better than what he thought in his head.

Eddie cocks a brow at him, a question forming on his face, as Lena coughs a little, covering a smile with his hand.

“I should get back to my table,” Lena replies after a moment, “Taylor doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” She nods once at Buck, “It was nice to meet you. Glad you’re keeping Eddie happy these days.”

“Hey! I’m plenty happy all the time.”

Lena winks at Buck, “Yeah, yeah. See you around, Diaz.”

Buck stands awkwardly beside Eddie for a few seconds before returning to his seat sheepishly, feeling a little ashamed of being so blatantly jealous of one of Eddie’s coworker’s in front of him. He isn’t worried about Lena, really. Who cares if he shows himself in front of her? But Eddie? He’d rather not embarrass himself in front of the man.

Their food sits in front of them, cool and untouched, after Buck spent the last thirty minutes in the bathroom and being rude to Lena. Buck doesn’t pick up his fork yet though, waiting for Eddie to say something, anything.

Eddie clears his throat, face relaxed, “Are you…okay?”

“Yeah?” Buck answers, brow furrowing as he tries to figure out why Eddie sounds concerned after all that’s happened.

“Are you sure? You were in the bathroom for a long time,” Eddie jabs a thumb back towards the men’s room that Buck had exited not ten minutes earlier with a frown. “We can get out of here if you—”

Buck jolts forward, “Yes. Let’s get out of here. Skip the dinner part.” He’s already standing, signaling the waitress back to the table, writing in the air with an imaginary pencil at her, and she sends him a thumbs up within a few seconds. He looks down at his food, scrunching his nose at it before looking back up to catch another waiter’s gaze. He mouths that he needs a go-box from him then fists his hands against his hips, a small, sly smile on his lips.

He drops his head to find Eddie frowning, arms crossed over his chest as he leans back in his chair. He doesn’t look angry. He actually looks upset in a sad, disappointed kind of way, and it makes Buck plop down into his chair, thoroughly chastised without Eddie even uttering a word.

“What? I don’t like what you’re doing,” Buck gestures in circular motions around his face, “with your face. It’s making me nervous.”

“Sorry,” Eddie clears his throat. “Yeah, we can leave. Your jeep is still at my house though.”

Buck chuckles, “Well, yeah. That’s where I left it, man.”

Eddie frowns again, quirking a brow at him. “I feel like I’m missing—”

The waitress stops by their table with two boxes and the check which she automatically hands to Eddie, which Buck is all geared up to rant about the blatant disrespect, the sexism of it all. It feels wrong to just assume Eddie would be paying out of the two of them.

He opens his mouth to comment but stops short when he realizes Eddie is studiously packing their food into the boxes and avoiding Buck’s eyes. Maybe Eddie’s not okay? Maybe he’s using this as an excuse to haul ass out of here, so he can dump Buck and run into his home…

Once the bill is squared away, and Buck has successfully worked himself up into a panic, they climb into Eddie’s truck, silent in the darkening night, and Buck struggles to keep his cool as Eddie pulls out of his space.

“Okay, I can’t do this,” Buck blurts, and Eddie’s eyes widen. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Eddie’s brow furrows, “What? No. You were the one who was ready to go home, Buck.”

At first, Buck’s heart races, blood pumps through his veins at an alarming rate, his skin feels hot and itchy, all because Eddie referred to his house as _home_ , but then Buck sees the scowl on his face, the clenched hands on the steering wheel, the way he refuses to look Buck’s way at all, and realizes he doesn’t mean his own home. Eddie means Buck’s home, and that, for some reason, makes Buck angry. It feels irrational honestly, but he thought they were having a good time. He thought they were going to have a little dessert now. Clearly he’s mistaken.

“I wish…” Buck murmurs as Eddie finally pulls into his driveway, effectively breaking the silence that had fallen over the cab, “I wish you would’ve just told me you didn’t want to go out.”

“What are you talking about?” Eddie’s voice is soaked in incredulity and disbelief. It’s a palpable thing how disbelieving he sounds, and that throws Buck for a loop.

Buck turns toward him, taking his seatbelt off, “I thought we were going to…you know, have a little _dessert_ , but you can’t wait to get rid of me.”

Eddie laughs, but it’s dry, still not entirely sure what’s happening. “Buck, you spent half an hour in the bathroom then declared you were ready to leave. What am I supposed to think here? It sounds to me like you’re the one trying to get rid of me.”

“Okay, I can see your point,” Buck admits slowly. The pieces are starting to click together now. “But if you knew what I was doing in the bathroom, you really wouldn’t be concerned.”

“Then what were you doing in the bathroom for twenty minutes?” Eddie asks with that damn eyebrow hitched again.

Buck grins, cheeky and feeling a little seductive despite all of the miscommunication, “I think I’d like to keep it a surprise if you’re still willing to take this inside.”

Eddie narrows his eyes, and for a minute Buck is certain Eddie is going to toss him out of the truck on his ass, but then his lips twitch into the sexiest smirk Buck’s ever seen. In his entire life, okay?

As soon as they step onto the porch, Buck can’t take it anymore. He can’t deal with any distance between them. He can’t deal with Eddie’s hands being anywhere but on his body, and he definitely can’t deal with his lips not kissing Eddie’s. So that’s exactly what he does, hesitantly at first since he’s not really sure if Eddie is actually upset with him or not, but then more firmly as Eddie begins kissing him back, hands hanging at his sides. Buck reaches down, lips still attached to Eddie’s, to grab at Eddie’s wrists, placing his hands on his hips the way he wants them, biting back a moan when Eddie squeezes, his fingertips slipping under his shirt to dig deliciously into the skin there.

Eddie pulls away, pushing Buck back until his back hits the door with a thump. “We should go in.” He punctuates his words with another breathtaking kiss, lips bruising in their intensity.

When they separate again, Buck lets his head fall back against the door, a soft whine spilling from his mouth as Eddie grins, unlocking the door slowly, teasingly. As soon as he reaches past Buck to swing the door wide, he’s turning around, darting through the threshold to Eddie’s bedroom toward the back of the house. He begins unbuttoning his shirt with deft fingers, delighting in Eddie’s low whistle behind him, and when he spins around to see Eddie leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, watching Buck practically beg for him to come deeper into the room and _take_ him, he nearly melts.

Eddie smirks, “Keep going. All of it.”

Buck is only too happy to oblige, finishing the last few buttons on his shirt before dropping his hands to let the material hang open then working the button free on his pants. When he pulls his zipper down, Eddie walks into the room, tugging his jacket off in jerky movements.

“Stop.” Eddie unbuttons his cuffs, rolling his sleeves up twice, just below his elbows, then comes to stand in front of Buck, eyes skimming over every inch of him, blazing a hot path over his exposed skin.

Buck swallows, “Is this…should we, uh, talk first? Isn’t that what normally happens?”

Eddie nods, gaze locked onto Buck’s chest where his tattoo resides. He flicks his eyes to Buck’s, lust darkening them further in the dim light of the room, “Yes, we’d normally talk before a scene, but…” he reaches a hand out, dragging his thumb over one of Buck’s nipples, “I don’t want to do a scene. Not the first time. I just want to feel you. Is that okay with you?”

 _Is that okay?_ “Hell yeah it is.”

Buck leans in, kissing Eddie again. This time he doesn’t hold back, not that he really was before, but now he doesn’t force himself to remain submissive while Eddie takes control. He rushes forward, his hands running all over Eddie’s chest then slipping around his waist to rub his back. Buck can feel the muscles jumping and flexing under his touch, and he smiles into the kiss, unable to stifle his joy.

“God, your body is…unreal.”

Eddie huffs, wrapping an arm around Buck’s waist and walking his backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed. “I want to lay you out. Lick you all over then you’re going to cum down my throat. Okay?”

“Uh, has anyone ever said no to that in the history of ever?” Buck asks, chest already heaving like he’s been running for miles, and he looks at the ceiling.

Eddie chuckles, the sound humbling and bringing Buck back to reality. That’s when he remembers his fucking plan, and he didn’t do all that in a restaurant bathroom for nothing, okay?

Buck says, “Actually, no. I want…I want you inside me.”

Buck looks at Eddie in time to see his raised brows before he relaxes his face, appearing impassive at the idea, but Buck can tell he’s thrilled at the prospect of fucking him. Buck can practically taste the pure fucking joy running through the veins in his arms like electricity in the air. He’s vibrating with unleashed tension, and Buck wants the same thing he wants. To feel him. He wants this first time to be just them, feeling, experiencing because this is unlike any other sexual experience Buck’s ever had.

It’s different in the way Eddie doesn’t respond, just straddles Buck hips, slacks stretching snugly over his groin, making Buck’s mouth water at the visible bulge caged there. It’s different in the way Eddie regards him with a strange amount of awed reverence, like he’s seeing him for the first time. Like he’s in love.

 _Fuck._ Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to feel it. He’s known Eddie a few weeks, and it’s too soon for Buck to rush into a relationship like this. He’s always judged people who claim they’re in love after a few dates and a good fuck. He’s always judged the people who tell people they married their soulmate after a couple of months. It sounds crazy, entirely irrational. Not practical at all.

Before tonight Buck would’ve said he didn’t believe in fate. That he was skeptical of the entire idea that the universe has essentially tied you with someone else no matter the time or place. He would’ve said that those people that believe in that are clouded by lust and a sense of longing. That it’s loneliness and society making them think something so absurd is real. That anyone who’s stupid enough to believe in such a concept deserves whatever shitty thing comes out of that relationship.

But right now? Right now as Eddie follows through on his promise, licking and biting at Buck’s throat and chest, nibbling his way farther down and down until he’s at Buck’s opened slacks, exposing his black briefs. Right now, he’s feeling impossibly in love with a man he just met. Right now, he’s feeling safe, safer than ever before, with Eddie Diaz, who’s everything Buck avoids in a man but is somehow everything he needs.

He’s not going to say it yet obviously. He can’t. He actually can’t get his mouth to do much more than a strangled moan at the moment, but that’s beside the point.

Instead, he places his hands on Eddie’s shoulders lightly, trailing them gently down his chest as he works each button on his shirt free, exposing inch after glorious inch of hot, tan skin. He pauses halfway through to run his fingers through the smattering of hair on his chest, biting his lip at Eddie’s sharp inhale. He’s leaning over Buck, hands on either side of Buck’s head as Buck slowly undresses him, exploring his body as he goes.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Eddie says softly, almost more to himself. He shifts to one hand, settling his butt onto Buck’s crotch, and his hips thrust upwards on their own accord. “You’re not doing anything special. Just laying there with your hands on me, with your eyes on me, but I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you right now.”

Eddie uses his free hand to drag his thumb over the apple of Buck’s cheek then over to pull at Buck’s bottom lip, and before he can lose his courage, his tongue darts out, licking at Eddie’s thumb before gently sucking it into his mouth. Eddie’s eyes darken, narrowing on the sight, and Buck bites down just enough for Eddie to inhale swiftly, jerking his thumb out of Buck’s mouth to kiss him roughly. Buck relents easily, granting him access immediately, and Eddie takes and takes. But he also gives and gives.

Buck finishes the buttons of Eddie’s shirt quickly after that, roughly yanking it away from his skin like it’s offended him. Eddie doesn’t detach himself from Buck, but he somehow manages to raise up just enough to balance as he tugs the shirt the rest of the way off. That’s when he jumps off of Buck, standing at the edge of the bed between Buck’s spread legs dangling off. Eddie’s eyes stay connected with Buck’s as he flicks the button of his slacks open, shoving them and his briefs to the floor in one smooth move, and suddenly Buck isn’t sure where to look. At Eddie’s eyes, which are hypnotizing as they watch him? Or at his fully erect dick that literally just slapped his stomach as it was freed from its confines like something out of a porno?

Honestly, there’s no competition. What is he saying?

Buck leans up, holding himself up on his elbows as he ogles Eddie for all he’s worth, and that son of a bitch just smirks and wraps a hand around his length, slowly stroking himself like he’s not driving Buck crazy.

“Okay, okay.” Buck says, dropping back to the bed then shoving his hands into the sides of his pants to shimmy them off. “Why am I still wearing pants? Jesus.”

“Eager, baby?”

Buck groans, “Okay. This is fine. I’m just going to cum in my pants from looking at you and hearing you call me pet names.” Buck finally gets his pants to his ankles and kicks them off, “This is fine.”

Eddie chuckles, climbing back onto the bed, hovering over his body while looking at him predatorily, and Buck shivers as he drops a chaste kiss to his temple. Eddie sits back, hooking his index fingers in the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down the length of his legs so Buck can kick them off.

“You like that? When I call you baby?”

“You’re a smug bastard, you know that?”

Eddie grins, placing open mouthed, wet kisses down Buck’s stomach, his fingers gripping Buck’s hips tightly, and Buck is arching into it, his hands thrown carelessly beside his head.

“You want me to suck your cock, baby?” Eddie asks, breath _fucking_ hot against his erection.

Buck lifts his head to look down at him, eyes narrowing, but Eddie’s just grinning, his face somehow serious despite all the playfulness. “Please.”

“Tell me. Tell me you want me to suck you, Evan.”

Buck swallows, dropping his head. “Please, suck my cock, Eddie. _Please._ ”

Eddie hums, and Buck can feel his tongue dart out to lick at the tip of his length. Buck moans. He can’t help it. The feel of Eddie’s tongue on him, hot and wet, makes his toes curl, seeking more.

But he doesn’t get it.

Eddie sits up, scooting off of Buck and the bed to kneel on the floor between his legs. “Not tonight.”

Buck whines, his hands banging frustratedly against the bed. It’s not his finest moment. All Eddie does is chuckle, hands running up and down his bare thighs, inching their way higher and higher.

“Patience,” Eddie whispers.

Buck whines again. “I don’t have any right now.”

Eddie stands, looking down at him. “Then it’s the perfect time to practice, don’t you think?”

“I can’t think at all, Eddie.”

Eddie laughs softly, opening his nightstand to pull out lube and a condom. He tosses them carelessly onto the bed beside Buck like he’s not actually planning to use them. They’re just there in case, and Buck feels himself growing desperate to make sure his hard work in the bathroom actually pays off.

“You want to know what I was doing in the bathroom?” Buck asks coyly.

Eddie arches a brow. He stands before Buck with his hands on his hips completely unabashed at his stark nakedness on full display, and Buck finds himself growing nervous as the seconds tick by.

Buck flips to his stomach, lifting onto his knees and elbows, putting himself on display for Eddie to admire, to want. He reaches back with one hand, dropping his head onto his forearm, and slips a finger into his still slick, stretched hole.

“You…” Eddie laughs, disbelieving. “You fingered yourself in the bathroom.”

“Yes. For you.”

He feels Eddie’s hand on his ass, pulling his cheeks apart to watch as Buck slides his finger in and out of himself. He’s never done this before. Gotten off while someone watched… He likes it. It’s nerve wracking, no doubt, but he enjoys that knowing that Eddie is so turned on by just watching as he fucks himself open for the other man.

Buck slips a second finger inside his hole, arching his back and moaning at the sensation, and Eddie growls—fucking _growls_ —before carefully taking Buck’s fingers out his hole. Buck hears the pop of the cap on the lube, and two fingers are entering him in one move, pumping a steady rhythm that has Buck mewling and grasping wildly at the sheets every Eddie grazes that mind-numbing spot inside him. Buck’s so lost in the sensation he doesn’t even realize Eddie’s adding a third finger until he’s already pumping his rhythm again.

“Eddie…” Buck gasps, back arching as Eddie rubs his fingers over his prostate. “I’m not—I’m going to—”

“No,” Eddie responds, pulling his fingers out of Buck and flipping him onto his back.

If Buck weren’t in the same state of debilitating arousal, he’d think Eddie is angry judging from the scowl on his face as he shoves Buck’s thighs toward his chest, exposing his hole again.

Then, as he’s holding Buck spread wide for him, Eddie spits directly on his hole, taking his thumb and rubbing it around then shoving inside. It’s possessive. That’s what it feels like. Marking and claiming Buck as his since they’re using a condom. Buck has no doubt that Eddie would be the type to come inside him and use his fingers to keep it inside.

It shouldn’t be as erotic as it is. It really shouldn’t, but it makes Buck’s brain go a little fuzzy, somehow more desperate than before.

“Eddie, please. Please, please, I need you.”

“You got me, baby,” he responds immediately, no hesitation. He’s sure, and as he reaches over Buck to grab the condom, tear it open, and roll it on, Buck’s even more sure in his assessment that this is love.

Full-blown, cataclysmic, irrevocable love that will leave Buck torn apart at some point, but he doesn’t care.

Eddie grips Buck’s thighs, holding them as close to Buck’s chest as he can without hurting him, and slowly, so fucking slowly, eases his way into him. Buck grabs Eddie’s wrists, holding onto him, as he takes his time entering him, letting Buck feel the burn and stretch of him every inch of the way. He welcomes it, the little bits of pain mingling with pleasure. It feels like a merger. Something that really solidifies the fact that Eddie is inside him.

Once he’s fully seated, Buck lifts his eyes, meeting his gaze, and he sees it, the same thing he’s feeling that leaves him wanting to hurl himself over the side of a boat. He sees it in Eddie’s eyes, a little twinkle that speaks volumes, and in his parted mouth, the way he’s breathing heavily, holding back.

Buck lets his hands skim up Eddie’s arms until he can cradle his head in his hands. He pulls him down for a kiss, something soft and slow, something that translates everything it’s too early to say.

He must get his point across though because Eddie begins rocking into him, short, shallow thrusts that turn into long, deep thrusts that leave Buck breathless, begging for more under his breath even as Eddie gives it to him. The room is quiet except for their harsh breaths and the sound of their skin slapping together. It should be off-putting, like watching Bella and Edward’s first kiss in Twilight without any background music. It should have made Buck cringe, but he revels in it. He enjoys the way it’s just them in the room making their own version of a song.

To anyone else, it’s hard to listen to, but to them, it’s beautiful. Everything is melding together in a way it never has, and every pitchy sound and every thuddy slap is just adding layer after layer to their song.

Eddie sits back on his knees, hands moving to grip Buck’s waist as he pounds into him. It’s not the same softness as before. This is Eddie’s own desperation coming out to play. It’s a level matching Buck’s own, and he thrives in it, arching and mewling chaotically until his body is strung tighter than a bow.

“Eddie—I’m gonna…” Buck says, but Eddie just slams into him harder, fingers digging roughly into his flesh, and that might be what does it for him. That little bite of pain as Eddie holds onto him so fucking tightly he’s leaving his mark on him.

With that thought in mind, Buck shoots, completely untouched, all over his stomach, groaning like he’s dying and hell, maybe he is. His head is thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, hands holding onto Eddie’s shoulders like he’s scared his orgasm is going to lift him and carry him over.

In the back of his mind, he can hear Eddie groaning, shoving balls deep inside him, and dropping on top of his chest to bury his face in Buck’s neck. Buck can feel his harsh breathing on his neck, and it makes him smile like an idiot. He’s exhausted, and yet his hips are still rocking inside of Buck like he just doesn’t want to stop. Like he doesn’t want to stop fucking Buck ever.

And he’s okay with that.

After a couple of minutes of hearing nothing but harsh panting and feeling his come cooling on his stomach, Buck clears his throat. “Are you dead?”

Nothing.

Buck tries again, “Did my ass kill you?”

Eddie chuckles against him. “Really?”

“Hey, it could happen.”

Eddie lifts off of Buck, reaching down to hold the condom as he pulls out of Buck slowly. Buck winces at the loss, but he doesn’t give it much thought when Eddie places a kiss to his temple, nosing at his sweat-damp hair, then over his cheek before planting a short, sweet kiss on his lips.

“What do you think?” Eddie asks, standing to toss the condom into the trash can beside his nightstand then extending a hand out to Buck. “We’ll take a shower? Then eat…maybe watch a movie.”

Buck grins softly. “That sounds really nice, actually.”

What a sap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A classmate calls Christopher stupid and a dumb cripple after hearing his parents say it which prompts Max to retaliate physically.


End file.
